To Heal All Wounds
by arbitrary
Summary: Three years after Spike's showdown with Vicious, Faye has become the top bounty hunter in the galaxy, and has just gotten engaged. Then her new life is shattered by her most recent job offer. Ending revised.
1. unburying the past

  
It never fails, the second you submit your work for public ridicule, you find a million and one mistakes... anyway, I felt compelled to fix most of these atrocities, so this version, while almost exactly like the original, only with fewer typos and redundancy, reads a little better.  
  
If I owned Cowboy Bebop, would I be writing fanfiction? No, so I don't.  
  
  
  
Searching for a Miracle  
  
Faye stared out on the ocean, from the deck of the Bebop. She'd been quietly contemplating for what felt like hours. A steady breeze blew over her, but despite the short-sleeved, low-backed dress she wore, she wasn't cold at all. She only shivered as she felt a hand on her naked back. She closed her eyes, inhaling his cologne, but she didn't turn around  
She hadn't heard him come up behind her, but she knew who would meet her eyes when she turned. That's why she kept them shut tightly. It hurt too much to look.  
"You look lovely tonight."  
It felt so right, here, with him, on the deck of the Bebop, but...  
"Is something wrong?"  
The familiar voice was like a dagger through her heart. Spike. How could she say it? How could she tell him the words, she'd love him so long... A tear traced a path down her cheek, and he turned her to face him.  
Familiar features... killing her with regret.  
"What is it?"  
The sea breeze tousled her hair playfully, but she didn't feel very playful.  
"I'm sorry, It's just..." she lost her nerve.  
"What is it?" he repeated.  
Faye toyed with a ring on her right hand. "I can't see you anymore." She turned away from him again. "You just aren't what I need."  
"What are you talking about?"  
"I have to, I can't keep going on like this anymore."  
"Faye, I love you, don't go..."  
Faye closed her eyes again, trying to stop the tears that threatened to drown her. If only that were true, but Spike had never loved her, the attraction had been all one-sided. The only person he'd ever loved was Julia. Not that she could blame him, Julia was a sweet, kind woman, and Faye... wasn't. How could he love her? "Spike..." she whispered, but he was no longer there, none of it was, the Bebop, the sea, the breeze... all had already dissolved into pith blackness as she slid the VR unit from her head.  
"Lights," the overhead lights came on, showering the room with reality. She sat there, for a moment, gathering her wits about her. No she wasn't with Spike anymore, hadn't been for almost four years, and she never would be again.   
She was in the penthouse of her Europa apartment, staring at her 3,000 wulong couch, blue glass coffee table, torchiere floor lamps and tasteful wall hangings.   
She slid the VR unit across the floor, under the coffee table. She wouldn't use it again, not ever. She had a reputation as the galaxy's best bounty hunter, she had carved out a life for herself, and she was in a relationship with a wonderful man who was a hell of a lot nicer to her than... than... No, she stopped herself short, no, she wasn't just in a relationship, she was engaged. He'd asked her to marry him over dinner the night before... that's why she'd gone into VR today, to bury the past, so she could move on with her future.  
The buzz of an incoming call on her videophone roused her from her reverie.  
"Yeah?" she asked answering the call.  
"Faye? What's wrong, Honey, you look drained."  
Faye looked into the concerned face before her. John... good old John. He absolutely adored her, she knew, but... did she really want to be adored? She knew she should, she had agreed to marry him because she knew she should, but, truth be told, she wasn't very enthusiastic about the match. Maybe it was just some perverse desire she had to cause herself pain that drew her to men like...   
"...Faye, Faye...HEY!"  
"Huh... yeah." She snapped back into focus and laughed nervously. "Sorry dear," the word seemed foreign in her mouth, "it's been quite a morning."  
"What'd you do, doll?"  
"Soaps and bon bons, you know me." She covered. She'd never told him about her virtual life, he didn't know.  
"So what time should I be over tonight?"   
"Actually, I have a business meeting in 45 minute, and I'm not sure how long it will take, so I'm afraid I have to cancel on you."  
"But this was supposed to be a celebration dinner."  
"I'm sorry, I've got business, hon, you know how it is... anyway, I've still got to get ready, so I'll talk to you tomorrow morning. We can meet for breakfast."  
He agreed, although reluctantly, and hung up.  
Faye sat there for a minute, lacking the strength to stand. She finally forced herself to get moving with the thought that she had to get ready for her meeting. She walked down a hallway lined with pictures to her room. As she reached the end of the hall, she turned the last picture toward the wall. It was an 8x10 of herself and the rest of the bebop crew. She just couldn't look at it right now.  
Faye entered her room and went straight to her closet, pushing past a pair of gold hot pants with a smile. Reaching instead for a black cat suit. She pulled on a semi-tight burgundy sweater and a pair of matching boots, and gave herself a once over in the mirror. Her eyes were still puffy and red, but she had half an hour before the meeting, plenty of time for her features to return to normal.  
She was a little nervous about this meeting, this wasn't an official bounty, the bounty placer hadn't put it on the open market yet. She'd gotten a call at an hour when all decent people should be asleep, and a strange voice had told her to meet him behind the Coconut Club, a disco on the east side.  
She felt like too much was happening at once and wished, not for the first time, that she could just slow things down... She'd feel better when she was on the road again.  
Away from John and his proposal, away from bustling friends, excited over the impending matrimonial services, and most importantly, away from all her thoughts of the past.  
  
The alley was dark and smelled of stale beer and human waste. The bar out front wasn't much better, though. Not from what Faye'd seen anyway. The Coconut Club was a hang out for doped up frat kids, and teens with fake Ids. The only saving grace was that tonight was oldies night, and the pulse pounding sounds of Nine Inch Nails could be felt straight through the brick wall she leaned against.   
She tapped her foot in rhythm, and waited.  
She dropped her spent cigarette to the pavement, where it met a growing pile of its associates, and ground it into the cement with the heel of her boot. Her client was late, and she was almost out of cigarettes. She turned to go.  
A footfall behind her. She tensed, reaching for her gun?  
"Ms. Valentine, I presume?"  
She turned toward the source of the voice, a dark figure highlighted by the neon of the club signs. "You're late." She said dryly.  
"My apologies, miss, I assure you, it was unavoidable. Now if you'd just follow me, my employer is waiting to see you."  
She shrugged and placed another cigarette between her lips. "Got a light, Jeeves?"  
"My name is Randy,"  
"Whatever."  
She moved forward and lit her cigarette off the antique Zippo he proffered. "Nice," she commented. "Haven't seen one of those in a while."  
The man smiled with pride, "It was a gift from my employer. Now, we really must be going, the car is just around the corner."  
Faye followed him to an old style Rolls Royce idling in the middle of the street. "Your boss has a real thing for antiques, I see?" Randy didn't reply, but opened the door and motioned for her to hop in.  
She obliged, sliding from the well-lit street into the cavernous darkness of the Rolls. She could smell cigar smoke, thick and sweet in the air, and hear the faint rustle of silk as her companion shifted in his seat, but it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light.  
"Ah... Miss Valentine, I trust you are well."  
As the driver opened the front door, entering the car, a narrow beam of light cut through the darkness, falling on the face of her prospective client.  
Faye held her breath for a split-second. It was a face that she recognized, even if she didn't know it well. It was the face of the leader of the Red Dragons. The one that had taken over after Vicious' death... and Spike's... Faye shook her head, casting those thoughts away.  
"Mister Kataki, I'm surprised to find that you are my new client... I was under the impression that the Red Dragons didn't hire outside help."  
"Not usually, but under the circumstances..."  
"And what circumstances would those be?"  
"I have a little problem that needs to be taken care of, but it needs to be kept quiet... it's something that concerns you as well, in a way."  
"How quite?" She asked.  
Kataki smiled. "Randy, pull the car over."  
"Yes sir," the driver obliged.  
"Thank you," Mr. Kataki pulled out his gun and a second later, the front seat interior was in dire need of an upholstery cleaner. He blew his smoking gun as Randy's lifeless body slumped over the steering wheel. "That quiet."  
Faye seemed unfazed "How much?"  
"30 million, cash. The only condition is that you keep it silent until you find what I want."  
"And just what is that?"  
Kataki put his cigar out, and leaned forward. "Three years ago, Spike Spiegel, with whom, as I understand it, you were acquainted, killed Vicious, that would have made him leader of the Red Dragons, but then he went and died on us too." Faye felt sick... Kataki sounded so matter of fact. "I came out on top of the ensuing power struggle, but my hold on the position was tenuous, and still is. But as long as a better candidate doesn't show up, things will be fine."  
"So what's the problem? There's no one left alive to oppose you."  
He smiled sardonically, "exactly."  
"I'm afraid I don't follow."  
"Well, what I'm about to tell you is information that only my most trusted advisors have been privy to. There is no body in Spike's grave."  
Faye choked, dropping her long forgotten, cigarette from her nerveless fingers. "What?"  
"The body turned up missing before the embalming, just vanished." He lit another cigar. "Naturally, this sort of thing can't be kept secret forever, and soon word tricked down through the ranks. So far, it's just an unconfirmed rumor, but considering Spike's track record, people are understandably hopeful." There was a long pause as he puffed on his cigar. "Even then," he continued, "it wouldn't be a problem except for the sightings."  
"Sightings?" Faye asked, trying to calm her thoughts when they were spinning like a top. She didn't want to think about Spike, or his death, not anymore, not when she'd just decided to move on... why had Mr. Kataki even asked her to help him.  
"Every once in a while, I'll hear a report that another of my men has seen Spike alive and well... I find this very disturbing."  
Faye's head was whirling, could it be possible...? No, no, it had to be a lie.  
"I hardly need to tell you how detrimental such reports are, with my leadership already in such a precarious position."  
"And you want me to quell these rumor." Faye felt like she was going to be ill.  
"Exactly," he smiled like a hyena to lunch. "I want you to find Spike's missing body and keep this whole thing quiet while you do. I want definite proof of Spikes demise."  
"Why should I help you?"  
"If the rumors are true... would you rather my henchmen be the one to find him?"  
If the rumors are true... What was he saying? That there was a possibility?   
He upped his offer, "one thousand Wulongs a day, plus expenses, and 30 million when you find the body."   
"I don't want a daily fee, it's too much like being on the syndicate payroll, but I do want expenses, plus 50 million upon completion." Part of her hoped he'd tell her to go to hell, keeping her from making the decision.  
"50 million? You must be joking... okay, but only because I have a weakness for perfectly preserved antiques and beautiful women."  
"It's settled then."  
He tossed her a folder. "This is all the information we have on it right now, including the location of the last known sighting. You better get moving, if you want to find him."  
"It's been a pleasure Mr. Kataki," she lied, opening her door and sliding back under the streetlights. She could hear him on the phone calling for another driver as she closed the door.  
A chill traveled up her spine and came to nestle in the base of her neck.  
Spike Spiegel, alive? Yeah right... right?  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. 

The elevator came to a halt, and the doors slid open. The man riding in the metal box was about thirty-ish, with slicked blonde hair... and attractive man, by most standards. He stepped out of the elevator, and the doors slid shut behind him.   
As he passed the mirror in the hallway, he stopped to gauge his appearance. He preened himself nervously, then satisfied that he looked about as good as he could, he turned from the mirror and walked the rest of the length off the hallway, stopping as hereached the last door.   
He paused as he noticed a note tacked to it. He'd been there a thousand times, but he still felt compelled to check the apartment number. 106. Yes, this was the right place. He began to read.  
  
  
  
John,  
I'm afraid I had to leave town on business, I'm very sorry, but I have to postpone   
our meeting. I'll call you tonight.  
-Faye-  
  
  
  
John stared blankly at the slip of paper. He was in shock... would Faye really cancel again? He reread the note.  
"Postpone our meeting..." he mumbled. Meeting! It sounded like a letter for one of her clients. She hadn't even signed it "with love."   
And this was supposed to be a celebration breakfast, in honor of their impending nuptials.  
"Some honeymoon this is going to be," he muttered, taking down the note and crumbling it in one hand. He tossed the wad of paper over his shoulder and trudged back down the hall. That Faye... ever the wanderer.  
  
  
knock! knock!  
It never failed, every time he started to relax...  
Knock! Knock!  
"I'm coming, I'm coming! Keep your shirt on..."   
Jet lived on the ocean of Ganymede. The Bebop, once a lively home to five, if   
you included Ein, sat by the docks, floating on the waves, a lonely bachelor's abode. It had sat there for almost a year... since Jet's retirement.  
He swung the door open, preparing to give whatever door to door solicitor was on the other side a piece of his mind, but as the face in the doorway registered, he changed his mind, sweeping the figure up into a tremendous bear hug.  
"Akkk... Watch it, Jet, you're gonna crack my ribs!"  
He let the woman go, smiling broadly, "Faye! You know, if you came to see me more often, you wouldn't get this kind of greeting."  
Faye grinned and cradled her ribs in mock injury, "I don't know if I can afford to see you more often."  
"So why have you been making yourself so scarce lately?" Jet said, sitting her down at the dining room table.  
"I've been spending more time at home, I haven't been out as much on jobs. You know I come by any time I'm on Ganymede."   
"The little man doesn't like spending time apart?"   
Faye turned suddenly sober, and smiled wryly. "Any two people in love would want to be close together."   
"Which brings me to my next question."  
"Which is?"  
"What are you doing here?"  
"Just in the neighborhood, thought I'd drop in." She lied.  
Jet gave he a suspicious look, but didn't say anything.  
Faye swallowed nervously, "So what have you been up to?"  
Jet relaxed "Well, I've been doing a little fishing, and tending my trees... you know, I thought retirement would be boring, but I really like just being able to kick back."  
"Oh..." Suddenly Faye felt guilty for what almost done. She'd come here to   
enlist Jet's help, but now that she saw him... did she really have the right to come howling through the door like a whirlwind and tear this man's new life to shreds, as Kataki had torn hers?"  
"And what about you?"  
"Well, I just took this new job, it's a really tough target." She couldn't do it, not until she knew for sure; she wouldn't hurt him like that. "I was on my way to Earth to start my search, but figured I should stop in here first, say 'hi' to my old buddy Jet."  
"Well I'm glad you did." He said with a smile.  
"Me too."  
  
  
Faye had talked with Jet until dusk, but now she had to move on. The last known sighting in the file was on Earth, near what used to be Las Vegas, so that's where she was headed.   
She stood on the dock, and punched a button on her bracelet. Within moments a point of light detached itself from the emerging stars, and began moving toward her. As it approached it got bigger, until a full sized ship came to hover above the dock. It was a midnight blue, mid-sized ship, smaller than the Bebop, but much larger than the Redtail. Two, maybe even three people could live on this ship comfortably, but it would never house the menagerie that the Bebop had.   
She traced her fingers along the lettering on the hull. SHADOW WOLF. She'd bought this ship just after Jet's retirement. It felt more like home than that apartment of hers.   
Faye hit another button, and the ship nestled itself into the water. The door slid open and a plank extended to the dock. As she entered her ship, the lights came on, and the door slid shut behind her. "Time to be off."  
  
  
  
  



	3. Living Memories

Sorry the second chapter didn't make very much forward progress. In all actuality, it was really more like a continuation of the first chapter, anyway, here's chapter three, I promise the pace picks back up again.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Living Memories  
The night was dead save the click of her heel as it struck the cracked pavement... click... click... click...She walked alone down the lifeless alleyways of what had once been a Mecca for the dedicated gambler. Now it was just a pile of rubble.  
She'd been here once, many years ago, she'd seen these streets teeming with life, and the city lit up like a Christmas tree. Now the city was black as coal. And yet... some how, this city seemed to remember what it had once been, in a far off, distant way. Perhaps all that luck, good and bad, all the fortunes won and lost, had left a permanent scar on the soil beneath her feet.   
She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. She could almost smell tang of the sweat that you only get when the pot has grown to at least 10 million Wulongs, and you're sitting on a straight flush.  
This one-time shrine to the god of fate was now nothing more than a ghost town.  
"It's fitting that they saw him here..." She said, to no one in particular. A breeze stirred the dust behind her, before brushing her neck with its ethereal fingers. She shivered, and picked up her pace, anxious to reach the meeting point. Suddenly, this place so full of living memories, made her very nervous.   
It was hard to believe that a mere hundred feet under the dirt was New Vegas, a subterranean mock-up of the original, where the glimmer of the lights shone on into the eternal night. It was to these sub-levels that she was headed, she was meeting with an old friend of hers in casino security... she almost laughed at the thought of having a friend in casino security, perhaps the term 'uneasy ally' would be better.   
She reached an escalator in the old town square, the only sign that there was life above or below ground, and descended to the depths below.  
  
New Vegas was like a smaller, but somehow gaudier version of the original, managing to pack all of the gleam and desperation of Las Vegas into a less glamorous package. But gambling was gambling, and to an addict, it didn't much matter if you were playing in an alley, or in a penthouse suite, so long as the stakes were high.   
She went into a place called Paragon; it was probably the most well known casino in New Vegas. Her friend was head of house security... the enemy of the card shark. She had a favor to ask him.   
As she stood in the foyer, she closed her eyes, and listened. The sound of tears, and of laughter, the *ching of the slot machines, the comforting rattle of the roulette wheel... no music composed by a Beethoven or Brahms was sweeter to her ears. She hadn't listened to this symphony in a long time.  
For some reason, the casino sounds made her think of another casino, and a fateful night, over four years ago...  
"Faye, I can't say it's good to see you, not in here anyway."  
"Nate," she said, recognizing the voice. Her eyes snapped open to find a tall man, in his early thirties, wearing a black suit and tie, and not to cleverly concealed earpiece. He nodded to a similarly dressed man as he walked by, who promptly raised his wrist to his mouth... it was times like these Faye wished she'd learned how to read lips. "My, my... you certainly run a nice little operation here." She said after a minute.  
"I just want to make sure you remember our deal."  
"Not to worry, if you help me out, I won't play... not this visit, anyway," she said, surveying the room now with open eyes, taking in the sources of all those delicious sounds.  
He gave her a suspicious look, but said nothing.  
"Now, let's get down to business... where's the bar?"  
He lead her through the archway and across the casino floor, all the while, keeping one eye in front of them, and one on her, as if he were afraid she would disappear into the crowd, and get lost among the other gamblers. Faye had to smile at her notoriety.   
On the other side of the gambling floor, was an arched doorway, which led to a dimly lit lounge. Faye broke away from her escort and headed to the bar, where the bartender was busying himself wiping glasses. He didn't notice her when she strolled up to the bar. Pulling out a cigarette, she rapped on the counter to get his attention. He turned around, and smiled at her.  
"Matches?" She said.  
He sent a book sailing in her direction, and she caught it with a grateful wink. "Thanks, now if you could just bring me a scotch on the rocks, I'll have found my dream man."  
His smile broadened, as he set a glass on the counter and began filling it. "I haven't seen you here before," he said.   
"And you won't ever again," said Nate, catching up to her.   
"In that case," Faye paused, taking a sip, "you can put this on his tab."  
The bartender chuckled, and turned back to his glasses.  
"So, are you going to tell me what this is about?" Nate asked.  
"How long do you big casino's keep security film?"  
"After the disk is full, we archive it for three months." His brows knit together, "why?"  
"Nate, you know those security cameras catch everything, that's why you've always been such a big help to me in the past... you've given me the heads-up on quite a few bounties, but you've always handled yourself in a manner that was just and ethical.""So?"   
"Well, what I'm going to ask you to, um... suspend you ethics temporarily."   
"I'm not sure..."  
"Let me speak plainly, how much is it going to cost to get you and every other major casino to sell me all of the security disks from last weekend?"  
"Three million," he said, not even bothering to feign outrage at the proposition.  
Faye smiled... this certainly fell under the category of 'expenses.' "Done, just make sure I get the tapes, not just from here, but every major casino in New Vegas, I'm staying at the Carlton," yet another expense, "I'll expect you there by noon tomorrow, and don't be late, other wise, the deal is off."  
Nate watched her retreating figure, sighing in relief. "Watch her until she walks out the door," he said into his wrist-com, then tapped the counter, "whiskey... double." Damn. She made him nervous.  
  
Faye grinned as she left the casino. She loved it when she made people uncomfortable. She walked to the curb, and signaled a taxi.   
"The Carlton," She said, sliding into the back seat with a sigh.  
The drive was an eerily silent one, none of the usual cab-chat, or destination suggestions. The car pulled up to her hotel, and Faye got out. She walked over to the driver's window, reaching into her purse for cash.  
"I've already been paid miss," he said, waving away her money. "You're employer left instructions that I was to take you anywhere you needed to go." He smiled, coldly... probably a little pissed at being reduced to cab service for her.  
"In that case," Faye shoved the money back into her purse, "I'll no longer be requiring your services. Tell your 'employer' I can handle my own cases." She walked briskly into the hotel, leaving the cabbie stunned in the car.  
  
There was a knock at her door at exactly 12:00 pm the next day. She smiled, opening the door to find Nate, and a large box.   
Nate glanced in either direction, then entered her room. "Where can I set this," he said, nodding to the box in his arms.   
"Just set it on the bed."   
He complied and then turned to face her, "Well, I've followed through with my end, what about yours?"  
Faye walked casually over to the bed, and peeked into the box... It was full of videodisks. She selected one labeled 'Friday, June 9th' and popped it into her laptop. The video showed a casino gambling floor, the card games and the craps tables. She smiled, and walked to the head of the bed, opening her nightstand drawer.   
She pulled out a manila envelope, and tossed it in his direction. "That's all three million," she sat down on the edge of the bed, "you can count it, if you like, but I assure you that it isn't necessary."  
He smiled, "I'll take your word for it," he said, backing for the door. He turned as his hand brushed oak, and left. With the door closed behind him, he broke the seal on the envelope, and counted the money. One could never be too careful when dealing with Faye.  
Faye smiled, and glanced once more into the box of video disks... The Spike double had been spotted just outside old Las Vegas, but no one goes to Las Vegas unless they're going to New Vegas, with any luck, he'd be on one of these security disks.   
She loaded and image of spike into her computer from public records, and inserted the first disk. The images flashed by, too quickly for her to process, but the computer had no trouble with it. It took ten minutes for the computer to sift through the images, and decide that the subject wasn't found. Faye shrugged; she hadn't really expected to find anything on the first one she tried, and popped in the next disk.  
She was finally making progress.  
  
12 hours later, her bed was piled high with searched disks, and the number of ones to be gone through was dwindling. She bit her lip in frustration as yet another disk came up empty, and inserted the next one. She saw the letters pop up on the screen, and winced out of habit, smiled, she began to laugh as she looked at her screen. SUBJECT FOUND.  
  
John stared at the phone... he wasn't really expecting it to ring now, at least not with her on the other end of the line. He should really be getting to bed, he told himself, he had to work in the morning, and anyway, it was obvious Faye wasn't going to call. He stood up; then sat back down again with a sigh, and continued his vigil.  



	4. Gypsy

  
  
Gypsy  
Faye set he laptop on her knees, examining the image on it. It was the Paragon lounge, and the place was packed. It was even the same bartender as the other night. She leaned into the screen, her eyes going to the lower left hand corner. Sitting at the bar, could it be him?   
She selected the area, and enlarged it. Her chest tightened as she saw him, he was sipping gin and smoking, it was like watching a ghost. No, not a ghost, this wasn't Spike, it couldn't be, she couldn't let herself believe that for even a minute. This was just a look-alike, nothing more... right?  
She shook her head, refusing to allow those thoughts to play themselves out, and tried to calm her erratic pulse. She zoomed in even further, to show just his face. It didn't really matter if he was the real Spike or not, she needed to find him either way. She watched as he reached his red filtered cigarette to his lips.   
Faye paused the disk... red filters?   
She selected his hand, enlarging the picture yet again. They were thin fingered, deft hands, a magicians hands... and cradled delicately between his index and middle fingers was a red filtered cigarette with three silver bands. Faye recognized the brand, they were Cars, a company based on a farm in Tijuana, very rare... in fact, there was only one shop in New Vegas that sold them.  
"Nicki's."  
  
Jet stood over the stove, stirring the unidentifiable contents of a large wok with a wooden spoon. He slowly lifted the mystery mixture to his lips, preparing to sample his latest concoction. He blew the softly on the morsel, cooling it, and inched it toward his waiting taste buds.   
And the phone rang.  
He shook his head, dropping the spoon back into the wok, and turning the stove off. The sample would just have to wait.  
He reached the vid-phone display, and hit the receive button.   
"Um... Jet Black?" came the unsure voice of the man on the other line.   
"Yeah?" He looked familiar, Jet was sure he'd seen him before, but he just couldn't place him. "What can I help you with?"  
"I'm sorry if I interrupted you. My name is john, I met you once before."Jet gave him a blank look.  
"... Last spring?" John prompted.  
An then it hit him, the neatly trimmed blonde hair, the high cheekbones and sharp facial features, the over all well-groomed, well-dressed appearance... except that the effect was spoiled by his obvious sleeplessness. He was John, as he'd said... Faye's John. Jet broke into a grin.  
"Well, hello there, sorry I didn't recognize you,"  
"No problem, really..."  
"So what do you want?"  
"Um... I know this is kind of a long shot, but have you seen Faye in the last few days?"   
Jet frowned, unsure of how to respond, finally opting for the truth. "She was here, what, two days ago? She was stopping in to say 'hi' before she went out on this new job. I haven't heard from her since, though. Why? Hasn't she called?"  
John bit his lip, "No, you've talked to her since I have... listen, Mr. Black, I know that Faye is prone to this sort of behavior, but I have a really bad feeling about this."   
"Then why not call her?" Jet asked.  
"Are you kidding me? Faye'd kill me if I interfered in a job, she'd think I was being overprotective." He looked into the larger man's face, "tell me I'm crazy, Mr. Black. Tell me I'm worrying over nothing, that she can take car of herself."  
Jet smiled reassuringly, "you are, and she can... I'm sure she's just fine, but you know Faye, always too busy, or having too much fun, to just pick up the phone." He was so calm on the outside, but inside, his mind was racing a mile a minute. When Faye was there, she'd seemed like she had something to ask Jet, but never managed to get around to it. Had she been in trouble, needing his help, but afraid to shatter his calm existence?  
"Yeah, I guess... thanks, Mr. Black."  
"No problem," Jet reached up to end the call, "Don't worry, if I see her, I'll have her call you."  
"Thanks again."   
Jet flipped the vid-phone off, then back on again. In a matter of moments, a young girl, about 15 or 16 appeared on the screen; she tossed her flame red hair, hair that had been trimmed to just below her chin. A slight smile curved her lips, and she blinked, as if she couldn't believe her eyes.  
"Can it be?" She chirped, clapping her hands together, "a direct call from the Big Man himself! What's up Jet?"  
"Ed," Jet smiled to his old shipmate. The young girl before him had changed so much from the child he knew (like the fact that she'd taken to speaking in coherent sentences) "I have to ask you a favor."  
"You name it, Jet, what do you need."  
"I need you to locate a space craft called the 'Shadow Wolf,'" Jet said.  
"The 'Shadow Wolf'... Faye's ship? What's wrong with her?"  
"Nothing, I hope, but I want to make sure."  
Ed nodded in understanding, and her hands, hidden from Jet's view began working furiously. "This will only take a second," she said.  
"Good," Jet muttered, under his breath, and sat back to let Ed work.  
"Faye-Faye, Faye-Faye, where are you..." she repeated, in a sing-song voice, at least some things didn't change. "Ah-hah, there you are..." She looked up from her laptop; "traffic control records show that she's in orbit over Earth, and brief check of her recent credit card transactions confirm that she's in New Vegas. Probably gambling," she said, with a snicker.  
Jet snorted, feeling a little foolish about his concern, Faye was just up to old tricks again.  
"I'll bet she's sitting at a Black Jack table, right now, just..." Ed trailed off, her attention once again focused on the computer screen. "What the...?"  
"What, Ed, what is it?"  
"It appears that we aren't the only ones interested in what our friend is up to, someone else is accessing this information, by his style, I'd say he's a syndicate hacker... but that's just a guess."   
"Just a guess?" Jet echoed.  
"Mm-hmm, won't know for sure until I poke around a bit!" She grinned mischievously, and cracked her knuckles.  
"Absolutely not, Ed! Don't mess with the syndicate. Not yet any way..." Jet frowned; he didn't like the direction this whole thing was headed. "Just watch him, for now, and tell me everything he does, whatever it is, this thing Faye's gotten herself into, she'll need back up." Jet sighed. His short retirement was over.  
  
Nickki's was a smoke house on the seedy side of town... well, seedier, anyway, Faye remarked to herself as the cab pulled to the curb. She tossed the driver a 50 wulong note, relieved when he gratefully took the money and sped off. The other night's experience made her a little nervous about the cabbies in this town, not to mention the syndicate, and it's tab keeping on her. Faye entered the establishment, armed with a photo of her quarry. She walked up to the counter, and laid the paper on the clear glass top.  
"Have you seen this man?" she asked the worker.  
He glanced at the picture, and smirked, "what's he to you?"  
Faye smiled, "my dear brother, missing all these years. Why I haven't seen him since I was a young girl... he ran off to join the army, you know, and never came back."  
The counterman laughed, "If he's your brother, then I'm the pope."  
"Fine, your holiness..." Faye said, switching tactics, "he's my ex-fiancé, he jilted me... left me at the alter in a 6,000 Wulong dress, surrounded by 400 guests, not to mention my parents. I've been trying to find him ever since her skipped out on me a year ago, and when I do find him, I'm going to kick the shit out of him!"  
The counterman smiled, faintly, "I can kinda see where he's coming form..."  
"Watch it, Bub," Faye's eyes narrowed dangerously.  
He coughed uncomfortably, "Um, I mean, I think I saw him in here last week, he bought a pack of smokes... Cars I believe... no, I'm sure of it, said he'd gotten used to smoking them while on Tijuana. Also told me he was headed to Venus, next, asked me if I knew where he could find 'em there."  
"Venus?" He nodded in response, "Venus is a big planet, nothing more specific?"  
"Well, I'll give you the same list of shops I gave him, but after that, you're on your own, I couldn't really tell you anything else."  
"Thanks," said Faye, the ghost of a smile playing upon her lips.  
She turned and walked away; she was done with the clerk, and this town... for now.  
  
She deftly maneuvered the Shadow Wolf out of its dock, and into open space, her hands moving over the controls in an almost loving fashion. She angled the ship toward the jump gate, and accelerated. She was more than ready to be moving on. Like she'd said, Venus was a big planet, and even if she did have a list of possible destinations, it was still going to take a lot of legwork to track him down.  
She jumped as her vid-phone began to beep. The call startled her; no one ever called her here. She looked out the window, and saw a large ship looming above her. She reached over and hit the receive button. It was a strange face that greeted her.   
"Ms. Valentine, I presume?" he said, in a tone that reminded Faye of a snake more than anything else.   
She resisted the urge to shudder at the sound of her name on his lips. "Yes," she replied coolly.   
"Ms Valentine, I understand that you have recently taken on a job from Mr. Kataki, a person that we know well," his smile seemed to feed off the warmth in the room, annihilating precious heat on contact. This time, she could not repress herself, and she had to clench her teeth to keep them from chattering.   
"I represent the head of a major organization, and my client has a proposition for you: drop this case, and he'll make it worth your while?"   
"And if I don't?"  
The stranger shrugged, "I don't believe you realize the impact of the task Kataki has set up for you. It could be very dangerous indeed, there are many people who, like me would rather you leave some questions unanswered."  
Her hand crept to the controls, and she armed her weapons "Are you threatening me?"   
"Absolutely not, my dear, I'm simply saying that you aren't fully aware of what you are getting into."  
"I think I have a pretty good idea what I'm up against," she said, shifting her ship into reverse, and jumping backward in space. She smiled, coolly, "Tell you're boss, I'm not interested in his offer." She fired off two missiles in his direction, then accelerated forward, and around the ship.  
She was in a race to get to the jump gate, and winning. The larger ship was less maneuverable, and still trying to turn around. She was almost there, almost home free, and then her heart jumped up into her throat... the jump gate was opening, and Faye suspected that on the other side, she'd find Mr. Anaconda's back-up.  
"Holy Hell!"  



	5. Just Plain Luck

  
"Holy Hell!" She whispered, to herself, unaware of the oxymoron. Things were going to get ugly...  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
She'd been preparing for a hostile fleet, and so the sight that greeted her eyes as the jump gate closed, and the ship came through, caught her totally off guard. It was the Bebop, no doubt with Jet at the helm. Her squeal of joy at the sight of her friend came out a choked cry as she remembered the monolith behind her. Jet had just walked into a very bad situation.   
  
In a matter of moments, her image was plastered onto the Bebop's view screen.   
  
"Listen, Jet, no time to talk now, just get out of here."   
  
Maybe it was the wild look in her eyes, or the urgency in her tone... or maybe it was the huge black ship that was turning toward them, and charging its main cannon, but either way, Jet didn't ask any questions. He hit the reverse thrusters on the ship, and went back through the jump gate, just as the cannon finished charging.  
  
The two of them were temporarily safe in hyperspace. Jet turned to the figure on his view screen, a questioning look in his eyes.  
  
"Not now, Jet, there isn't time, it won't be long before they follow us through the gate, we've got a ten minute head start at best, and we have to make sure we lose 'em before I head to Venus."  
  
"Venus? Lose who? Who were those guys? Wait a minute, what the hell is going on?"  
  
"I told you, there isn't time... listen, I don't know if they saw you or not, but either way, we have a better chance of losing them if we spit up."  
  
"Okay..." Jet said, feeling a little confused.  
  
"We'll meet back on Venus, tomorrow morning. There's a diner, Chevy's, be there. I'll fill you in the situation."  
  
"Alright, I have to say, I'm dying to hear what this is all about."  
  
Faye smiled, wryly, "Hopefully not."  
  
  
  
  
Dimitri stared, half dazed, at the jump gate. A slow smile spread across his face, and deep in his throat, a rumbling began. It started low, and built, until a crescendo of laughter bubbled over his teeth, and spilt over his lips.   
  
He laughed for a good, long time; long enough to make his subordinates on the bridge start to give him looks. After a while though, he finally calmed down, and wiped the mirthful tears from his cheeks.  
  
The woman had spirit, he had to give her that, but if she didn't start dealing more respectfully with the syndicate, that was all she'd have. Did she actually imagine she could escape? Where would she go?   
  
"Don't pursue them, let the rats scurry back into their holes, we are watching them." His subordinates nodded. And he continued to stare out at the jump gate.  
  
"I'm going to my quarters," he said, after a moment, and turned to leave the control room.  
  
Now that the initial novelty of the situation was wearing off, he found her refusal not so much amusing, as infuriating. He couldn't let her find the subject; it was too soon. He needed the dissention in the Red Dragon. He needed the powerful organization weakened by lies, deception, rumors, and disloyalty and if she found him now... Dimitri smirked; he'd just have to make sure that didn't happen.  
  
  
  
  
Faye was chain smoking. She sat in a corner booth of a small diner, waiting. She hoped Jet got out okay; oddly enough there hadn't been any sign of pursuit, but she was still worried. If she some how managed to get Jet hurt...   
  
She took a long pull off her cigarette, before grinding it into the overfull ashtray on the table in front of her, and motioned to the waitress to bring her more coffee.   
  
She jumped as the door opened, and she turned around, hopefully. No. Not him.  
  
She turned back to her coffee, lighting another cigarette. It just didn't make sense. She had been ambushed by an unidentified syndicate official, who had demanded she give up her search, but how had he known? She shook her head. Kataki had said that only his highest-ranking advisors had been privy to the information he'd given her... but he'd also said that there were rumors circling through the ranks...   
  
Faye sipped her coffee. There was something here she was missing, but what?   
  
She turned as the door opened a second time, and was rewarded by the sight of her comrade. She motioned to him, and, after a brief look around, he came to sit at her table.  
  
"Jet! I'm glad you're okay." Faye said, beaming at her friend.  
  
Jet slid into the seat opposite her. "I should be, your friends didn't make any move to follow you," He closed his eyes, "honestly, that makes me more nervous than if they had."  
  
Faye's only response was a wry smile.  
  
He leaned toward her, over the table, "what's going on, Faye? Why are you're files being searched by syndicate hackers? Why are you being threatened by thugs in giant black ships? What have you gotten yourself into?"  
  
"I've just been asking myself that same question."  
  
"And?"  
  
"Well..." she looked away, briefly, trying to decide how to tell him. "Jet, what if I told you Spike was alive?"  
  
Jet's face went ashen, "don't say that, Faye, don't tell me that."  
  
"Well, I had a meeting the other evening with Kataki,"  
  
"Kataki? Oh no," his eyes widened, "you didn't."  
  
Faye nodded. "He told me that Spikes body was missing; he asked me to find it." She paused to take a drag off her cigarette. "He also said that there were rumors that Spike was still alive, and he said that Spike had been spotted in several different places."   
  
She exhaled slowly, blowing out a puff of smoke, " He didn't deny that these sightings were genuine, and I couldn't take the chance."  
  
Jet stared at the table for a long time. Long enough, thought Faye, to burn the wood patterns into his corneas. At long last, he swung his gaze to hers.   
  
"So how far have you gotten?"  
  
Faye closed her eyes, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. She hadn't been sure how Jet would react to the news, but he seemed to be taking it pretty well. Was his mind reeling, as hers had? Was his throat tight, and dry? Was he dizzy, as she had been? She opened her eyes to look at her friend's face. If so, he hid it well.  
  
"Well," she reached under the table, grabbing the laptop off the seat next to her, and bringing it up onto the table. "See for yourself," she said, flipping open the top, and inserting the security disk.  
  
Jet watched wordlessly as Faye scanned the disk for the appropriate section. He inhaled sharply as Faye stopped the footage. "Oh my God," was all he said.  
  
Faye shook her head, closing the notebook. "I just don't know what the hell's going on, Jet. The only other people who are supposed to know about this are Kataki's advisors. Why would they try to stop me from doing a job that Kataki hired me to do?"  
  
Jet cleared his throat before speaking... perhaps it *was* dry, Faye mused.   
  
"I don't know, but I have a feeling that you'll find the answer to your questions when you find this... this look-alike."  
  
Faye nodded, she'd been thinking the same thing, but... "Do you think I should be worried about uninvited guests dropping by?"  
  
"Definitely, but do have any choice?"  
  
Faye shook her head, "I guess your right, it doesn't matter."She looked up into her companion's eyes, "can I assume that you're going to assist?"  
  
"Well, I can't just wait around for you to call me."   
  
  
  
  
  
Corbin 26 walked down a crowded Venus thoroughfare, ignoring the mob that jostled him from all angles. He'd just finished a job, doing bodyguard work for a small time Venus arms dealer; he was doing a lot of that lately.   
  
The client... a Mr. Townsend, had needed to hire extra help, while he was waiting for one of his larger deals to go through. The job had been beneath his abilities, but the pay was good, and he needed the money, which he was on his way to collect, right now.  
  
He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and placed one in his mouth; he was doing a lot of that lately, too. He wasn't even sure when he'd picked up the habit, in his earliest memory, he was holding a cigarette in his hand, inhaling thick, acrid smoke.   
  
Maybe he was born with a cigarette between his fingers; breathing carcinogens into his infant lungs... he couldn't remember.   
  
He sighed, as he reached the designated place, a pet shop, on Main Street, and turned the deserted alley next to it.   
  
Why'd this stuff always have to happen in a deserted alley, anyway? he mused, reaching into his pocket for a light, and groaning when he came up empty, he must have left his lighter in the hotel room... damn.   
  
His train of thought was derailed by the sound of a car engine. He stood stock still as a black Mercedes peeled out around the corner, behind him, and came speeding in his direction. The vehicle skidded to a stop two feet from him, and the passenger door flew open.   
  
"Gotta light?" he asked.  
  
"Mr. Twenty-six," came the impassive greeting from the man who had just exited the auto. It wasn't Townsend, he noticed, but one of his men.  
  
The stranger tossed him a matchbook  
  
"Please," came the gritty tones, "call me Corbin, we're friends aren't we?"  
  
"I don't believe so, I don't think we've ever met face to face."  
  
Corbin held up the matchbook, "Trust me, right now, you're my best friend."  
  
The stranger flashed him a half smile. "In that case, I suppose I should introduce myself. My name's Nicky, and I have a present for you, from Townsend." He set a silver case on the hood of the car. "It's all there," he said, cracking it just enough for Corbin to see the stacks of green beneath.  
  
"I'm sure it is... Well, I can't say it's been a pleasure working for Townsend, but at least it pays well."  
  
The other man smiled, "Corbin 26... interesting name. I'm sure there's a story behind it."  
  
Subject 26 lit his red filtered cigarette, and smiled, "When I figure it out, you'll be the first to know."  
  
  
  
The duo, one tall man dressed in frayed jeans and a tee-shirt with torn sleeves, and a shorter woman, sporting a long blue jacket over boot-cut black jeans and black tank top, stood in front of an old brick building... hard to imagine that the ancient building material would be found in a place like this. In the middle of the Venus shopping district, cold, hard steel would have been more appropriate.   
  
Why was it that the future had a distinctly unfuturistic feel? Faye thought to herself, as the two of them passed through an arched doorway that Faye thought was maybe a little too ornate for a cigar shop.   
  
She blinked, furiously, as she stepped from the bright light outside into the dimly lit shop after her partner. She paused for a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the rapid change, then headed to the counter where Jet was already conversing with the clerk.   
  
"My friend and I are looking for someone... tall, lanky, messy green hair, perhaps you've seen him?" Jet was saying.  
  
"I may have, and then again, maybe I haven't."  
  
Faye smiled at the woman, biting back her annoyance, then reached into her bag for the photo.   
  
She laid it on the counter, "this is the man we're looking for." She stated, impatiently. She was hungry for answers. "Have you seen him?"  
  
"Well, I don't know."   
  
Faye reached into the pocket of her jacket, pulling out a stack of bills and placing them on the counter.   
  
"Perhaps I can refresh your memory."  
  
The clerk raised one eyebrow, glancing from Faye, who's hand had crept to the gun belt at her waist, to a mean looking Jet, and back again, finally deciding that it was probably better to take the money than not.   
  
"He was in here two days ago, bought a pack of smokes... I don't know his name, but he left this on the counter." The woman tossed a matchbook in Faye's direction.   
  
"It's from a local bar, just a few blocks from here, you might want to check it out."  
  
Faye placed a card onto the counter, it had her phone number in bold across the top. The clerk raised an eyebrow to her, questioningly.   
  
"If you should see this man again," Faye informed her.  
  
"Don't worry, I'll let you know."  
  
Jet tapped Faye's arm, and inclined his head toward the door. Faye turned with him, and left through that damned arched doorway, while the greedy clerk counted her cash.  
  
"Well, now what?" Jet asked.  
  
"I was just going to ask you the same question."   
  
Jet shrugged his shoulders, "hey, you're running this show, not me."  
  
"I suppose I ought to go and check this place out, then," she said, stretching her arms high above her head. "It doesn't really take both of us, and I do need someone to be my eye in the sky, so to speak."   
  
"You want me to sit on my ass and do surveillance?" he asked.  
  
"You really know how to take the romance out of it."  
  
  
  
  
Ed saw the room through Faye's eyes... or rather Faye's eyewear, thanks to a tiny camera imbedded in the bridge of her sunglasses. She had picked up on the signal that came from that camera to the monitor in the Bebop, and decided to tap into it... hey, it had to beat professional wrestling, right?  
  
"Why don't you take another look at the picture..." she was saying to the bartender.   
  
Better than wrestling... yeah right. Ed rolled her eyes. She was profoundly bored.   
  
She was about to turn the scene off, and go back to the broadcast of 'Death Games' 3000, when she noticed an image in the mirror behind the bartender. Someone was watching the exchange with far more interest than herself. He had just glanced over Faye's shoulder as he walked past her, and turned pale at the image on the photo. He took the seat next to Faye and began listening intently to the developing conversation. Ed decided that it would be beneficial to all if she found out the cause for his interest.  
  
She ran him through her database. A smile spreading across her expressive face, as the file popped up.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Jet."  
  
He jumped as the scene in front of him was replaced by the image of a young girl with short red hair.  
  
"Ed, I'm a little busy," he said, managing to keep the annoyance out of his voice.  
  
"Oh, I know," she said. "You're watching Faye's back... and doing a lousy job of it." The window containing her face shrunk into a small box in the left hand corner of the screen.   
  
"Did you even notice that guy on Faye's left? You can see him in the mirror on the other side of the bartender." A red arrow popped up, pointing him out.  
  
"His name is Nicholas Greene; he works for a man named Townsend. The guy's pretty well connected, and judging by his reaction to the picture, I'd say he's seen this guy, even if the bartender hasn't."  
  
Jet shook his head, "I'm impressed, Ed. Nice work."   
  
The teen beamed.   
  
"Now to pass this information along."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Faye sat up in her seat, Jet's voice sounding jarringly unnatural issuing from within her ear canal.  
  
She took in what he had to say, looking into the mirror behind the bartender. He was right there next to her, hanging on every word that was uttered between the two of them.  
  
Her eyes narrowed, as she burned his image into the back of her mind. She'd be seeing this man again soon... very soon. She smiled deviously, She was getting close.  
  
"Huh?" she said, suddenly becoming aware of a voice that didn't originate in her head.  
  
"I said, 'are you okay, miss?'" the bartender replied.  
  
"Um, yeah," she dropped a twenty Wulong note on the bar, in payment for her drink, and stood up. "It's just been a long day."  
  
"Since you can't help me, I'm not going to waste anymore time here."  
  
The second she was through the door, she pulled off her sunglasses, and turned them to face her.  
  
"Get down here, now, Jet, We're going to talk to this guy tonight." She couldn't hear his reply, because she'd already dug the earpiece from its resting place, lodged just inside her ear canal, and tucked it into her pocket.  
  



	6. Constrictor

Faye dropped her earpiece into her pocket, and began humming deep in her throat.   
  
Soon now, very soon, she'd have her answers.  
  
She ducked into the alley next to the bar, and settled herself into the shadows to wait. When this Nicholas Greene left, she'd be right behind him, tailing him... she'd follow him wherever he was going, and when he got there, she'd call Jet to help her "question" him.   
  
Yes, soon...  
  
"I've been looking for you."  
  
The acid tones behind her caught her totally by surprise. She had thought she was alone in the alley. She had been wrong.  
  
She ripped her gun from its holster, and whirled to face her opponent. "You!" she hissed. She was face to face with the man in the black ship. The syndicate dog.  
  
He grinned down the barrel of her glock30, and raised his hands slightly. "I'm afraid I never got the chance to introduce myself before. My name's Dimitri."  
  
"How 'bout I just call you 'Ass Hole,' it suites you so much better."  
  
His grin took on a wicked twist. "Is that so?"  
  
He struck out too fast for her to react, knocking the gun from her hand, and her onto the ground. A moment later, he was sitting on her chest, constricting her breathing. He leaned over, his lips pressed into her hear.  
  
"I have to say, I'm a little disappointed in you. I thought this would be a little more challenging."  
  
"Fuck you!" she managed, breathlessly.  
  
"Very crude, Miss Valentine, how about I teach you some manners."  
  
He sat up, and drew his hand back. She met his eyes in a defiant glare as his fist began its down arch, and held his gaze until the force of the blow fell upon her temple. Then she was staring at the wall beside her, and the puddle her lifeless arm lay in, and then the fade to black.  
  
  
  
  
  
Nicky glanced over his shoulder and watched her go. He'd recognized the picture; it was the man who he'd met just the other day. The one who called himself Corbin 26.  
  
He'd recognized her too. She was the bounty hunter, Faye Valentine. The year before, she'd taken in a pal of his, but what could she want with a guy like Corbin.  
  
True, what he worked for some slimy people, there was no law against that, otherwise, most people would be in quite a bit of trouble. So what, then?   
  
Nicky shook his head, if that lady bounty hunter was involved, it had to be pretty big. He'd probably better let Townsend know about this.  
  
  
Her communicator rang in the alley, unheard by all but one. Jet walked over to the buzzing black box, his eyes traveling from the gun laying several feet away to the faint blood stain on the concrete, and back once again to the communicator... Faye's communicator.  
  
He flipped his own communicator closed, and the faint noise stopped.   
  
He had waited for her to call with a location. He'd waited for over an hour. And when she didn't call, he'd tried to call her, and she hadn't answered. Now he knew why.  
  
Jet closed his eyes, and shook his head. That stupid woman had gotten herself into trouble, again. He should have just let her go that day, so many years ago, when they first met. He'd known she'd bring trouble to his doorstep.  
  
"But then your life wouldn't be so interesting." He told himself aloud.  
  
And suddenly he felt it, anger and anguish, welling up inside him. Emotions belonging not only to the present situation but to events from years past. He raised his metal arm, closed his eyes to listen to the familiar whir and click of gears as he curled the fingers into a fist. He hit the wall so hard it cracked.   
  
Not again, this time he would not loose his partner... not this time.  
  
He turned around, making his way back to the ship, "but I have a feeling that you'll find the answer to your questions when you find this... this look-alike..." he repeated to himself. "You'll find the answers when you find this look-alike."  
  
He didn't have time to be subtle, he was going to get some answers.  
  
  
  
  
Drip. Silence. Drip. Silence. Drip... and so on, and so on. The first things Faye became aware of was this sound and the scent of lilac, and jasmine. Next was the ache in her head, like a drum solo on her temporal lobe.   
  
"Nnnnnn..." she moaned, and started to reach her hand to the injured area. That's when she became aware of the third thing. She couldn't move her hands, and she registered the feel of unforgiving steel encircling her wrists. She'd been in handcuffs enough to know without looking that she was in them now.  
  
"Ahh... I do believe I see some signs of life," the voice was feminine, and almost matronly. "You're a lucky girl, you know that? Dimitri has a terrible temper." She continued.  
  
Faye tried to sit up, straining against her bonds.  
  
"No, don't do that, you really should rest a little more first, before you try to get up... besides, I don't have the key to those cuffs, Dimitri does."  
  
"Dimitri can go to hell," Faye whispered, as she drifted back off to sleep.  
  
  
  
  
Jet looked at the number on the apartment building, and saw that it echoed the one on the slip of paper in his hand. This, according to Ed, was the apartment of one Nicholas Greene, and here, Jet would get some answers.   
  
The building was a bit rundown. Inside the door, the lobby was laid with trampled red carpeting, and the wallpaper was peeling and stained with smoke. But it had once been expensive wallpaper, and the dusty chandelier spoke that the building had seen better days.   
  
Jet walked by an unoccupied security desk, and up two flights of stairs. There was an elevator in the lobby, but judging by the shape of the ground floor, he really didn't want trust his life to whoever did the upkeep on this place. He felt much better when he wasn't swinging from old cables.  
  
As he reached the second landing, he paused. His hand was already on the door to the hallway, but on the other side he could hear voices.  
  
"She didn't say anything about me, or about trying to bust up our operation?"  
  
"Nope, just that she was looking for Corbin."  
  
Jet pressed his ear to the door... were they talking about Faye?  
  
"Did you tell her anything?"  
  
"No way, that guy is too close to us right now, having just finished up a job for you. I didn't want to do anything that might get us involved with the police."  
  
"Good thinking Nick... You're sure she didn't notice you?"  
  
"Nah, never even looked in my direction."  
  
Jet stiffened as he realized the voices were getting closer. He reluctantly left the door, and the conversation, and headed another flight up. He pressed himself against the fourth flight of stairs, and waited until he heard the hall door open, and the footsteps that retreated down the stairs.   
  
He breathed a sigh of relief, and heaved himself off the steps.   
  
Once again before the second floor hall door, he stopped to listen, then, satisfied that there was no one there, he turned the handle and stepped into the hallway. He walked half way down it, on orange shag carpet, and stopped in front of 207. He lightly rapped the door with his knuckles.  
  
"Coming," he heard form far away.  
  
Jet ripped the door from its hinge. "Don't worry," he called, "I let myself in."  
  
Jet heard a muffled "oh, shit," and headed in that direction.  
  
He pulled his gun, and kicked in a door that he assumed was to the bathroom. Nicky looked rather undignified sitting on the toilet with a newspaper spread across his lap.  
  
"Um... can I help you?"  
  
Jet grinned "why I believe you can. You see I work with a Miss Valentine, and we were looking for this man," Jet tossed a photo at him, "Who is he, and when was the last time you saw him?"  
  
Nick shook his head, "shit, I thought I was going to get outta this one." He cleared his throat, and continued "He calls himself Corbin 26. The first time I saw him, and the last, was about two days ago. He did a little bodyguard work for a friend of mine,"  
  
"Your boss, Townsend." Jet filled in.  
  
He grinned weakly back at Jet. "Yeah, anyway, I delivered his payment."  
  
"Did he tell you anything... where he was staying, where he was headed next?"  
  
"I don't know where he's going, but he was staying in a hotel in the shipping district, a place called Romania. It's a real rat hole... I doubt he's still there."  
  
"We'll see," Jet said, and left the dazed man on the toilet. "We'll see."  
  
  
  
  
Corbin tied his boots, and opened his pillow mint. He turned off the television, and pulled his suitcase off the bed. A moment later he was shutting the door to his room, and walking down the hall, spinning the room key around his finger.  
  
He'd drop these by the desk, and check out, then off to god knows where, to do god knows what, all for the sake of earning a little cash, so he could once again move on. He smirked, what a way to live his life.  
  
"So you're Corbin 26?"  
  
He stopped in his tracks, as a drop of sweat trickled down his neck.  
  
"That's what I go by, yes."  
  
Corbin turned around. The first thing he noticed was the gun aimed at his head. It was a standard army issue 1911, a classic design. He then moved his gaze up the barrel of the gun to the metal hand that gripped the handle, to the broad shoulders, and imposing figure, and finally to the stern face.   
  
It was a rugged face, Corbin mused, a face that had seen a lot of heart ache, a lot of pain. Under different circumstances, he might have respected that face, but right now it belonged to the man training a gun on his nose. It was hard to feel anything but hatred, and bitterness... and maybe fear.  
  
"I don't know who you are, but I know who you're not, and there is no way you're Spike. He's dead, and I guess I'm dealing with that, but now she might be dead too." The man's stone face cracked. "Are you Spike?"  
  
Spike? Some one had called him by that name before, hadn't they? He couldn't remember. Was he Spike? Corbin shook his head, and gave him the best answer he could.   
  
"I don't know."  
  
  
  
  



	7. deals with the devil

"Honey... Faye, dear, wake up. It's me, John."  
  
"John?" she returned. His voice seemed far away.   
  
"Time to come back to your new life, time to come back to me..."  
  
Her mind was flooded with images, memories made with John, memories of her new life. She saw her apartment, the overpriced couch, the blue glass coffee table... she was home. She was safe.  
  
She was safe... and unhappy. Home to call her own, husband who loved her... what was missing? What could she want for?   
  
Some one to love in return.   
  
The answer was a whisper in her mind, a nagging at the back of her neck. And slowly she turned around.  
  
"Spike."  
  
That name on her lips shattered her beautiful dream, sending glittering fragments falling all about her.   
  
As the image dissolved, she could feel the pounding in her head. The dripping faucet had been silenced, Faye realized as she gradually came awake. She couldn't smell the lilac and lavender either, and she knew the benevolent presence, the kind woman who had been there before, was gone.   
  
She had also been relieved of her restraints. She could no longer feel the cold weight against her wrists. A thought occurred to Faye, and she felt her left wrist with her right hand. Damn, he'd taken her bracelet too... well, so much for escape. For a moment, she thought to bolt, but she shifted her head and the urge to run subsided. The pounding in her temple was too intense for thought.  
  
She reached a hand to her damped forehead, and groaned.  
  
"Ah, awake finally."  
  
Faye cringed at the sound of the voice above her. It was a voice that she was getting to know all too well lately. She opened her eyes, slowly, warily. The form above her was fuzzy at first. She saw a vaguely human outline, and gradually, as the image cleared, she was able to make out dark hair, and crystal blue eyes.  
  
"Dimitri," the name burned her tongue like acid. It was vile to her.   
  
"Glad to see you remember, it means you don't have any brain damage."  
  
Faye reached one hand to her face, flinching as her fingers came into contact with the bruise there. She remembered all right, and she'd get him back for what he'd done.  
She clenched her teeth in anger.   
  
"You're not speaking, come now, Ms. Valentine, you should be happy."  
  
"Should I?" she bit out, through gritted teeth. "You kidnapped me, are holding me prisoner, and I can only assume that you plan to kill me."  
  
"Ah, but that's where you are wrong, we don't want to kill you, you are way too valuable." He moved to the side of the bed, and sat next to her on the edge. "We want to hire you."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The resemblance was uncanny. It threw him off guard. Sure, he'd seen the tape, he'd been shocked by the similarities, but he'd somehow thought that face to face, it would be a different story, that the illusion would be shattered. How wrong could he have been? The man before him... his face, his voice, the way he stood there with that half amused smile on his face... could it be?  
  
No, no... Spike would recognize his old partner, right? This couldn't be Spike.  
  
Jet shook his head. Spike was dead; there was nothing more he could do for him, now he had to concentrate on reaching Faye... before it was too late.  
  
Corbin furrowed his brow in frustration, "let's continue this conversation somewhere a little more private." He raised one eyebrow and twirled his key around his finger.  
  
Jet Glance down the hallway, suddenly conscious of what it would look like if some one happened to come down the hall while he was waving his gun around. Reluctantly, he tucked the piece into the back of his pants and nodded.  
  
"Good idea."  
  
The two of them headed wordlessly back down the hall. They didn't speak until the door clicked behind them.  
  
The room was meticulously tidied, if it wasn't for the lack of pillow mint, Jet would have sworn the room had had a visit from the hotel maid. Jet glanced in Corbin's direction. This definitely wasn't Spike; Spike would have left the place messy.  
  
"Now," said Corbin, "perhaps you should start at the beginning,"  
  
"Faye Valentine was my partner. She accepted a job about a week ago, and she's been on your tail ever since. Three days ago, she was threatened, they told her to drop it, but she refused."  
  
"That was from the beginning, good thing I didn't ask for the abridged version." Corbin grinned, slyly, "well, if you're partner was trailing me, and turned up missing, it's almost a cinch that Dimitri has her now."  
  
"Dimitri?"  
  
"He's a higher official of the Russian mafia, he oversees most of their scientific endeavors." Corbin took the cigarette pack from his shirt pocket, and slid the cigarette from the package.   
  
"I'd offer you one, but it's my last pack... besides, I know you have your own."  
  
Jet waited for him to finish lighting up before he continued.  
  
"Why? Why would the Russian mafia be involved? why would they try to stop Faye?"  
  
Corbin exhaled, and lay back on the bed. He closed his eyes for a moment, and just breathed.   
  
"Because they are after the same thing she is... Me."  
  
"Why are they after you?"  
  
Corbin held up his hand, showing the back of it to Jet. XXVI was tattooed into the flesh below his knuckled.  
  
"XXVI? 26, that's your assumed name, right? but what does that have to do with anything?"  
  
Corbin ignored his question. "If you want your partner back, I know where they're probably holding her." Corbin held up one hand, and appeared to examine the fingernail for dirt. "I might be willing to help you find her."  
  
"But?"  
  
"But, I like to get paid for my time." Corbin got a hard glint in his eyes, "besides, this endeavor would be particularly taxing for me, since it would put me in dangerous proximity to the man who's been hunting me for over two years."  
  
Jet pulled back a bit. This man was so mercenary, so cold; he hadn't expected that, he'd expected him to be more... like Spike? He asked himself. This was not Spike, he told himself for the third time, and it never would be, because Spike was gone. And it didn't matter, he wanted to find Faye, and he'd give Corbin whatever he asked for.   
  
"How much?"  
  
Corbin gave him a lopsided smile that might have been winning, if Faye's life hadn't been hanging on it.   
  
"We'll discuss price later, after your friend is safe, for now... let's get moving."  
  
  
  
  
  
"Hire me?" Faye echoed.  
  
"Yes."  
  
Faye narrowed her eyes dangerously. "What for?"  
  
"Nothing you weren't doing for Kataki, we want you to find Corbin 26 as well... and we'll pay better."   
  
Faye had no illusions about what she did. She was a bounty hunter, she fed off misfortune; the dregs of society were her bread and butter. And yes, she had been known to commit the occasional crime, dabbling in the very same things that she would bring another person in for. Historically, she'd been willing to do almost anything for the right price, but this...   
  
My god, he was asking her to deliver the double to him. A man who might be the man she loved, a man she would do anything to protect.  
  
She looked Dimitri in the eye, and spat in his face. "I don't care if you buy me Mars and have it re-named Faye-Land, I won't work for you. I won't do anything to help you."  
  
Dimitri, calmly wiped his face, "come on, now, don't be difficult." He smiled slightly, as Faye shook her head. "You don't really have a choice, it's that or..." his smile widened to a maniacal grin, as he flicked his wrist, and a spring loaded knife shot into his hand. "Let's just say I'll enjoy it more than you."  
  
"You're sick."  
  
"I know."   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Jet brought the Hammerhead to a stop in front of Lansing-Medcalf biotech, and glanced unsurely at Corbin.   
  
"Are you sure this is Dimitri's base of operations?"  
  
Corbin gave him a lopsided smile. "Sure, I'm sure."  
  
"But... these people do agricultural research, fertilizer, genetically enhanced corn... not exactly the usual syndicate fare."  
  
"It's a cover... trust me, not all their genetic research is restricted to corn."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. re-alignment

Sorry this has been such a long time coming, I went on vacation, and didn't get much chance to work on it. Anyway, here is chapter eight... Enjoy!  
  
  
  
  
  
Dimitri's brow furrowed in frustration, as he closed the door to the lovely Miss Valentine's room. His ears still rang with her refusals, even after he'd threatened her with bodily harm. Honestly, the woman could be so unreasonable. Couldn't she see how much easier this would be for every one if she just gave in? Surely she knew that he couldn't allow her to live otherwise, she had defied him, after all.  
  
Well, threats to her own well being wouldn't work, but maybe there was some one else she cared about... some one she was close to... a relative perhaps, or a colleague... a lover? What was it Faye Valentine, bounty hunter extraordinaire, care about?  
  
  
  
Faye breathed a sigh of relief as the door clicked shut behind Dimitri. A shudder went through her body as she recalled the glint in his eye as he held his knife to her throat, and the smiled of pure enjoyment that graced his features. She knew a true sadist when she saw one, and she could tell he fit the bill, with his cold eyes searching hers hungrily, and the cool raspiness of his voice. She shuddered uncontrollably at the thought of being at his mercy. She hadn't been afraid like this since she'd been captured by Viscous.  
  
Vicious... she stiffened at the thought; the name still sent a shiver up her spine, even after all these years. And it still brought sent a pang through her chest, because of the other name that had become permanently associated with it. It was that name that wandered to her lips, and she let herself say it. Just once. Just because it gave her strength.  
  
"Spike." She whispered shakily... it all came back to Spike. Why couldn't he ever just die when he died? Why did he always have to haunt her, always have to invade her thoughts... it seemed like his name was always on her lips.  
  
Faye smoothed her hair with her damp palm and chewed the offending protrusion. Her lips, the traitors that whispered painful words into the cold white walls around her.  
  
Maybe... Maybe she should help Dimitri. If she helped him find the double... well, when confronted with Corbin, she'd see that he wasn't Spike, right? Maybe then she'd see how silly it was for her to cling to the hope that he might still be out there. Maybe then she could close the door to the past... even if he was still alive, he didn't love her, after all.   
  
And maybe then, she could find a way to be happy and return the love that John had given her so freely, so openly.  
  
In a flash of anger, and desperation, Faye ripped the pillow from behind her head, and sent it hurtling toward an unused IV stand in the corner, setting the metal rocking and the useless tubes swaying back and forth. She gritted her teeth and balled her fists as a wave of pain, that had nothing to do with her ever-present headache, wracked her body. It took her a second to realize that the desperate sobs that rang through her ears were her own.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Lansing-Medcalf.   
  
The building was a metal monument to progress. Funny thought, considering the architectural design was based on 20th century skyscrapers. But there it was, the glass of a thousand windows gleaming under the hot Martian sun, reflecting the glowing orb back into the eyes of any onlookers, like a faceted jewel. And indeed it was a jewel, the jewel of illegal genetic research. The compound was the envy of all other syndicates, even the Red Dragon had nothing to compare to it.  
  
He should know.  
  
Inside it was cold, sterile, oppressive, the middle floors anyway. That's where the labs were, the labs, and the scientists quarters. The bottom two floors were dummy labs and receptionist desks and tour guides, all for the purpose of maintaining the image of an agricultural research facility.   
  
The top floors were different too. He'd never been to the top floors, those floors were reserved for Dimitri, so he could be close to his pet project.  
  
Corbin frowned, if indeed Dimitri had abducted Jet's friend, she would be on those levels. But he'd already shared that information with the old bounty hunter, who had in turn passed it along to... well, Corbin wasn't totally sure, but this person seemed to be a close friend of the both of them, and was right now helping Jet formulate a plan to enter the building, and rescue the damsel in distress.  
  
Hell, more and more, Corbin was beginning to feel like he was trapped in some sort of demented fairy-tale. He smiled in amusement. They had the princess, the ogre, the tower, the electronic wizard, the knight in shinning armor (himself, naturally), and a weird case of mistaken identity... all they needed now was a huge black dragon shooting flames 100 feet into the air from on top of the Lansing-Medcalf building.  
  
His smile quickly dissolved. Tomorrow they were heading inside those walls.   
  
He swallowed a lump of something he assumed was fear, and turned his gaze to the cracked pavement of the sidewalk below him. I galled him to find out that he was afraid to return inside those walls, but he had to, he knew. He'd made his metal-armed employer promise to pay him for his services, and what he wanted most could only be obtained on the other side of those plexi-glass panes.   
  
"Freedom." He tasted its sound on his lips, he rolled it over his tongue, he felt it drip like sweet honey down the back of his throat. It tasted wonderful. To be really and truly free, to not worry about who was chasing him, when they'd find him, what they'd do to him... always making just enough money so he could leave...   
  
He would be free.  
  
But first he had to face Dimitri.  
  
  
  
  
Sometimes Irma hated Dimitri. He was cold, angry, sadistic... She shook her head as she knelt beside his "guest." When Dimitri had brought her in the other night, Irma had recognized her immediately as the woman who had attacked his starship and fled. Irma had been on the bridge with Dimitri, she went almost everywhere he did, and she'd seen this woman take on impossible odds and defy him.   
  
She had instantly held a tremendous amount of respect for the woman, even looked up to her in a way, but tonight, after Dimitri had left here, Irma had listened outside the door while the woman had cried heart-wrenching sobs into the thick walls. Eventually, the woman had cried herself into another feverish sleep.   
  
Irma wasn't sure what Dimitri had said to make this woman, this strong woman, react so, but she knew it had been something incredibly painful.  
  
Sometimes she hated him... but all too often, she loved him.   
  
"Can you teach me how to turn him away?" she asked the sleeping figure.  
  
Irma dabbed cool water on the already sweat-drenched head of the unconscious woman lying before her. She leaned over and ran the cloth once more under the cool water before turning it off.   
  
She tugged with all her might, but wasn't quite strong enough to turn it off. She was never quite able to turn this faucet off. She sighed as the sound of the dripping water filled the room.   
  
The woman's name Irma knew almost as well as her own. Better than her own actually, it was a name that always seemed to be on Dimitri's lips, lately.   
  
Irma wrung the rag out and held it under the slowly dripping faucet for a while. She could have turned it the rest of the way on, she supposed, but, just then, she lacked the desire. She waited until the little rag had soaked up all it could, then began dabbing once again.  
  
Faye was her name.   
  
  
  
Faye's eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, she thought everything... the phone call for the job offer, the meeting with Kataki, the search, the kidnapping... everything was just one crazy dream. But as her eyes focused on the bleach white walls around her, she knew that she hadn't been dreaming. She shut her eyes again quickly trying to escape back into her dreams.   
  
No such luck.  
  
A slight rustling from the other end of the room alerted Faye to the presence of another, and she shot up in bed, reaching instinctively for the gun that she knew wasn't there.  
  
"Who the hell are you?" Faye asked, rather harshly, the napping form of a young woman in the corner of the room. She was short with a slight build and thick, dark hair that curled around her face. Faye thought that she could probably snap this woman in half without even trying.  
  
The noise seemed to startle her, because instead of simply waking up, she leapt to her feet and began looking around like a scared doe. She managed a groggy, "huh?" before her eyes came to rest upon Faye, sitting straight up in bed.  
  
A shy smile touched her lips, and she said in a voice barely above a whisper. "I see your headaches gone."  
  
Her voice had lost the matronly quality, she assumed, about the time that Faye lost her headache, but she was almost positive that this was the woman who had been at her bedside the first time she awoke. The faint scent of lavender confirmed Faye's suspicions, and she let out a sigh of relief.  
  
"Never mind," she mumbled, becoming suddenly aware of a painful growling in her stomach. How long had it been since she'd eaten? She wondered.   
  
"Hey, what's a girl gotta do to get some grub around here?" Faye managed in a gruff voice.  
  
"Oh, of course," she said, brightening immediately. The mothering tones returned as she said, "you haven't eaten in almost 36 hours. I imagine you should be practically starving." With that the woman strode off calling, "I'll be back," over her shoulder.  
  
  
  
  
John jerked awake at the sound of the doorbell, and for a brief second imagined it was her, that she had returned to him. Only for a second, then he reminded himself that he hadn't heard a single word from her in almost a week, and that she had definitely seemed nervous at the thought of their impending nuptials. He clenched his jaw with the cold, harsh reality that she was probably never coming back, and threw open the door.  
  
He first mistook the pair standing in his doorframe as sales men. He let out an exasperated sigh, and began closing the door with a muttered "I don't want any," one of the men stuck his toe in between the frame and the door, preventing him from shutting them out.  
  
"Oh, I think you'll want what we're selling." He said, and patted the bulge in his jacket for emphasis.  
  
John shook his head, "what has she gotten into this time?"  
  
  
  
  
Jet rubbed his tired eyes, and took a long pull off his cigarette before placing it back into the ashtray next to his computer screen. Ed was a computer genius, she had managed to get him a copy of the building schematics for the Lansing-Medcalf building, but she wasn't the tactical wizard, it wasn't up to her to take the information he gathered, and turn it into a viable plan, that was his job, and just now, he was having difficulty living up to the responsibility.  
  
"Anything yet?"  
  
Jet closed his eyes, "not a thing, Sp... Corbin," he blushed a little at the slip, but continued as if nothing had happened. "Not a thing. Their security is so tight, I doubt a fly can flap its wings unnoticed in there."  
  
He slammed down the screen of his laptop in frustration.  
  
"Really?" Corbin asked, in a slightly mocking tone, "do you mind if I take a look?"  
  
Jet snorted, "be my guest."  
  
Spike had never been one for planning, and he had been terrible with computers, so Jet nearly fell off his chair when her heard the words, "I've got it," exiting Corbin's lips.  
  
Jet had expected him to get frustrated and kick the computer, like... like Spike would have. He often forgot that this double was not his Spike. Sometimes he forgot that 'his' Spike was dead.  
  
  
  
  
Faye paced her room. Back and forth, back and forth, like a caged animal.  
  
Her food was eaten hours ago, and the woman, whom Faye had discovered was named Irma, had even brought her a change of clothes. Faye now wore a tight fitting purple and black jumpsuit.   
  
She hadn't heard from Dimitri in a while, but she was still alive, so she could only assume that negotiations were still open. That meant he'd be back.  
  
She chewed her lip nervously, and steeled herself to come face to face with the human snake once again.   
  
A few moments later when the door opened to admit her captor, she was prepare to face him.  
  
  
  
  
"Okay, we can't come in from the ground, too much security, but we can't come in from the top, because the laser system protects the roof, right?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Well, the targeting system is computer controlled, we can get our friend to disable them just long enough for one craft to land on the roof, and drop off a passenger."  
  
"But won't they notice that their laser system isn't working?" Jet asked, apprehensively.  
  
"No."  
  
"No?"  
  
"No. Because you will be causing a diversion on the ground floor, something big, something that will take all eyes off the roof." Corbin said with a devious grin.  
  
Jet gave him a quizzical look, "have you done this before?"  
  
  
  
  
  
"You see my dear it's really quite simple..." Dimitri was saying.  
  
But Faye was having trouble focusing on what he was saying. All she knew was that it had come down to a choice, a very difficult choice. John... or the double. Faye didn't notice the exact moment he finished speaking, in fact, she was pretty sure the room sat in silence for a long time before she realized it was her turn to speak.  
  
She sunk down onto the foot of the bed.  
  
"Come on, it's pretty simple, either find Corbin for us, or kiss your fiancé goodbye."  
  
She placed her head in her hands, and mumbled low.   
  
"What was that?" he asked.  
  
"I said 'I'll do it'" she snapped.  
  
"I thought you'd see it my way."  
  
Faye barely restrained herself from throttling him then and there. She hated him, his smug attitude, his cold, beady eyes, stealing the life from the air around him... she longed to shut those eyes, permanently.   
  
"You'll probably need this," he said, tossing Faye her bracelet.  
  
Faye caught it, and clutched it to her chest like her lost child.  
  
"We had your ship towed out of orbit around Venus, it's in the hangar of that big black starship, circling us right now. Go ahead, hit the button, we can be on the roof in time to meet it."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	9. A Change of Plans

Jet sighed, as he led Corbin through the hangar. Past the Hammerhead, its once weathered sides now covered in a coat of fresh paint, he had spent some time fixing it up after he retired, past a sea of ship parts they walked, to an object on the other side of the hangar, and object that had sat almost untouched under a tarp for three years. Jet had worked on it, when he and Faye first recovered it, but after a while, he found it too painful to look at, so he'd covered it, buried it... buried him. In one sweeping motion, he pulled the tarp off, uncovering the Swordfish II.  
  
His eyes flicked involuntarily to Corbin's face, gauging his reaction, testing him. He was not disappointed, as something not quite identifiable, but resembling recognition, registered in this strange man's eyes. But it was gone a moment later, replaced by a look that was definitely confusion.  
  
"This ship will take you to the roof," Jet said, averting his eyes, "can you fly it?"  
  
"I'll manage," Corbin answered him, with a grin.  
  
Jet sighed and stared back down to the other end of the hangar, looking longingly at his newly painted Hammerhead. He'd spent hours, pounding out dents, sanding out rust, buffing, painting, waxing. He'd overhauled the engine, changed out the stereo system, re-did the upholstery... and now he was getting ready to sacrifice his old friend... for a diversion.  
  
He was going to drive it right through the ridiculous windows of the bottom floor of Lansing-Medcalf.  
  
"Not for anyone else," he muttered, and headed over to his ship. Things were about to start happening.  
  
  
  
  
  
Corbin watched as jet walked to the other side of the hangar. He waited until the man was standing before his own ship before he turned back to the Swordfish II. He cocked his head to one side, giving the converted racer a once-over.   
  
"Hmm..." he muttered, as he walked over to the side of the craft, and opened the hatch. He tried to shake the growing sense of familiarity that assaulted him as he sank himself deep into the cushioned driver's seat. He tried to dismiss it, the nagging feeling of déjà vu, but it wouldn't let up, it wouldn't relent, it tortured him, pulled him apart. This had happened before, but never like now, never like when he was at the controls of this ship.   
  
He smirked, pushing the emotion to the background, and started the engine. He sat, eyes closed, listening to the growl of the Swordfish II warming up, for a few seconds, before following Jet out of the hangar. He was ready.  
  
  
  
"Jet," Ed hissed.  
  
She'd been infiltrating the computers that controlled the rooftop lasers, her fingers flying over the keys like a Bach composing a symphony, a beautiful, electronic symphony. She was mere moments away from breaching the systems defenses, when she picked it up.   
  
Ed may have been engaged, but she never could just focus on one thing at a time.  
  
Someone had just sent an electronic signal, from inside Lansing-Medcalf, activating the remote mode that Ed herself had helped Faye install on the Shadow Wolf.   
  
"Jet!" she snapped, "There's been a new development."  
  
"What do you mean, 'new development?'" he asked.  
  
"Someone's just engaged the remote mode on Faye's ship, it appears to be headed for the roof of the building. Jet, there's no way to confirm that it was Faye, and if it wasn't, well, it might make it a little difficult for our new associate to land, and slip in unnoticed."  
  
Jet digested this, then, "So we're going to have to abort?"  
  
"That depends on if you want to see the light of another day."  
  
Mostly, Jet was disappointed to hear this. He hated the thought of Faye trapped behind that endless sea of windows. She had once said that she was a romanie, a gypsy; that she couldn't stay in the same place for too long. She had said that she needed to travel the universe, searching for love... Jet knew she wasn't a gypsy, but there was a core of truth in the lies. She hated to be contained.   
  
Yes, mostly Jet hated the thought of aborting, but a little piece of him, a very little piece, was glad that the Hammerhead was going to stay in one piece.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The walk from her hallway to the elevator seemed to take an eternity. Miles and miles of blue-gray granite tiles as far as the eye could see. And all the while, the repeated word, 'traitor, traitor, traitor...' in her head, kept rhythm with the tap-tap-tap of her boots on the tiled floor.   
  
"I'm glad you've finally decided to see reason, it would have been a shame to have to kill such a lovely woman." Dimitri was saying.  
  
But all Faye heard was 'traitor, traitor, traitor..." with the beat of her heart.  
  
How could she? How could she agree to help Dimitri recover this man? How could she betray Spike that way?  
  
Spike? How could she betray Spike? This wasn't Spike, she reminded herself angrily, and even if it was... well, what loyalty did she owe him? He hadn't been much more than an annoyance to her since the moment they met. No, he hadn't been an annoyance, he had been worse than that, an annoyance wounldn't have made her hurt this bad. She had loved him... had been in love with him... and he had been in love with Julia. He'd broken her heart.   
  
He was still breaking her heart. Even as she tried to rationalize her decision, she knew that it didn't matter, and it was killing her.   
  
But she couldn't sacrifice a living man for a dead one; she couldn't let them harm John, just because she still had feelings for a corpse. It wasn't about making the right choice; it had been her only choice.  
  
'traitor, traitor, traitor...'  
  
The pair came to a stop in front of the elevator, and Dimitri sidestepped, gesturing for Faye to enter first.   
  
She blinked twice, seeming a little puzzled, and obviously distracted, before she entered the steel box. She turned to face the doors as Dimitri slipped in next to her.  
  
"You've been very quiet." He stated.  
  
"I'm very angry." She replied... and very upset.  
  
Dimitri smiled, knowingly, "don't worry, my dear, if you deliver Corbin to me, I'll release your 'darling John.' I have every faith that you'll do the right thing."  
  
"I'm sure you do."  
  
Their conversation was cut short, as the doors slid open. They made their way out onto the empty, tar-covered rooftop, just as her ship was landing.  
  
"What excellent timing... well, I suppose you'll want to be on your way."  
  
"I wouldn't spend any more time in your presence than I absolutely had to," Faye hissed between gritted teeth.  
  
"Hmm..." was all Dimitri said, but his eyes flickered in anger.  
  
Faye turned from him, and went to her ship, extending the plank. Right before the door slid shut, she turned back to him, and blew him a kiss. "When I see you again, it'll be the last time."  
  
  



	10. a strange greeting

He took out all of his frustrations on her. In his minds eye, he didn't see the slim, small body that was before him, or the thick dark curls. He saw a taller, more curvaceous body; he saw straight, sort hair, in an A-Line cut. He saw green eyes, not brown.  
  
"Next time I see you, will be the last time..."  
  
The nerve of her! He hated her; he wanted to teach her a lesson.  
  
Dimitri held her head in an iron grip, his nails digging into her scalp until she could feel the blood beginning to flow, ignoring her whimpers and yelps. It was all about domination and humiliation with him. It didn't matter that the anger he felt was meant for another woman than the one he abused now. It didn't matter that it was another woman he wanted to humiliate. He was a true sadist, and she complied, accepting his rough treatment with as little complaint as humanly possible, but tomorrow her thighs would be sore and bruised from his angry penetration.   
  
He felt no remorse; this was what Irma was made for.  
  
  
  
  
Corbin stretched himself out on the bed, staring at the tar stained ceiling. This room used to belong to a chain smoker. He reached his hand to his lips, pressing his own cigarette into his mouth, and pulling thick, acrid smoke into his hungry lungs.   
  
He could have asked Jet who used to stay here, but he already knew. It was as familiar to him as the Swordfish II had been, and in the same strange way, like déjà vu. Less than a memory, more than an impression. He hadn't thought so yesterday, when he'd come here to sleep. It's amazing how one feeling can awaken another... the simple act of sitting in that ship's cockpit had changed the way he saw this ship, and everyone around him. He felt like he was seeing through old eyes, and he wasn't sure he liked it.   
  
He exhaled sharply, and propped himself up with one elbow, the other bending to an arm that lead to a hand that brought a red filter to his thin lips for a second drag. Slowly, thoughtfully, he exhaled, letting the smoke roll over his tongue. Suddenly, he didn't want to stay in this room a second longer, crowded with feelings... suddenly, he had a burning desire to see what Jet had been up to since their botched search and rescue. Suddenly he had a burning desire to do anything that got him away from here.  
  
He heaved himself off the bed, and ran a lazy hand through his unruly tuft of green-tinged hair, stretching his tense muscles. He turned his door handle and stepped out into the hall.  
  
  
  
  
Jet sat anxiously at the helm of his ship, a glimmer of hope in his eyes, as he watched the screen, waiting for the beep that would indicate an incoming message.  
  
Corbin leaned against the doorway, watching the big man. He'd known him for a grand total of two days, but already he'd grown to like him. Jet was honest, and trustworthy. A truly loyal friend... wouldn't it be good if he could call him a friend? If he could call anyone a friend?   
  
Corbin wondered what this 'Spike' had been like, this man who'd lived here, on this ship, befriended Jet, and the woman, and... whoever it was that Jet kept talking to over his computer. He wondered how many hours he'd spent, staring at the ceiling in his smoke-stained room, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, thinking of everything, and nothing. He wondered if he knew how good this life was... and he wondered if, maybe, there was a place for himself here.  
  
Without warning, Jet's head swung to the doorway. "Corbin, finished sulking?"  
  
Corbin answered that with a smile, "I hate this, you know." He left the doorway and came to sit in a chair adjacent to Jet's.  
  
"So, how long do we wait?"  
  
Jet chuckled a bit, in spite of himself. "If it was her, she'll contact us right away, and if it wasn't... well, we probably won't make another pass until tomorrow."  
  
"Hnn..."   
  
As if on cue, a beep began to issue from the communication console. Jet turned in his seat, and hit the receive button. Even though he'd been waiting for just this moment since Ed first told him that someone had activated Faye's ship, he was still shocked to see her face in front of him.  
  
"God Faye, are you okay, where are you, so I can come pick you up?"  
  
She bit her lip, "Jet, I need to talk to you, there's been a slight change."  
  
"Change?"  
  
"I'm sending you my coordinates, come get me."  
  
  
  
  
The Shadow Wolf was too large to fit through the Bebop's hangar doors, so they brought the ship alongside, aligned the airlocks and anchored the two together.   
  
Faye opened her airlock, waving Jet into her ship. She had to tell him what had happened, and she felt like she needed to be on her own turf, and while the Bebop still felt like home, it had always been Jet's ship, Jet's sanctuary.  
  
She watched with a heavy heart as Jet walked the length of the metal tube that bridged the distance between the two ships. How could she tell him? Would he understand why she'd agreed to help Dimitri... or would he be disappointed in her? Jet wouldn't have given in... he would have found a way around it, a way to save John and the double, but now, their only link to Spike was lost.   
  
Everything was lost.  
  
And then she saw him.   
  
He leaned casually against the airlock of the Bebop, watching, as well, as Jet entered her ship. She watched as the orange-red glow of his cigarette traced a beautiful pattern in the air as the hand it was attached to was raised from his thigh to his mouth, bringing the filter to rest against his lips. Familiar lips, bent in a crooked smile.   
  
Her eyes jumped to his, and she saw in them a look of surprise and recognition that she was sure must echo her own, and briefly, ever so briefly, she forgot about John waiting back on Mars for her to come to his rescue, she forgot about the proposal, and the fear, she forgot about Vicious and the showdown and the three years of pain that night had caused her, and she forgot about Dimitri, and his deal... and that there was a man named Corbin who was a dead ringer for Spike. For one brief, and shining moment, it was only her and him.  
  
For one moment... and the next, she was in his arms, her head buried in his chest, crying a flood of tears.   
  
And he held her, because some piece of him told him that this was the right and true way. A part of himself had longed for her to be in his arms without him ever knowing.  
  
"Shhh... It's all right, everything's all right," he whispered. He had never seen this woman before, but something told him that this was what he needed to do.   
  
This impression was shattered by one word.  
  
Faye raised her tear-stained eyes to his, and whispered a name. His name.   
  
"Spike."  
  
  
  
Irma cradled the dark head in her lap, stroking his silken hair, and humming softly.  
  
She was very careful not to cry, not to let any of the emotion she felt show in her face. It wouldn't do for him to awaken and see her crying, for him to know that he'd caused her pain. He'd only laugh at her, and call her a foolish woman, and remind her of the one reason why she was there.  
  
He didn't care about her, not really.  
  
And then she couldn't help but let a single tear run down her face. Tonight he'd broken her heart. So she let another tear follow the first, and another.   
  
He'd been distant lately, as if he wasn't really with her when he was with her. And of course she knew where he really was, who he was really touching in his mind. She knew what face he saw; she was only fooling herself.   
  
Tonight he'd called out her name: Faye.  
  
And suddenly Irma was angry. Her anger wasn't for the other woman, how could she ever hold anything in her heart but awe and admiration for the first woman she'd seen stand up to Dimitri. Yes, in a way Irma looked up to the woman as a role model. She knew it was a sort of hero-worship, but she felt that Faye Valentine held the strength she lacked.  
  
Nor could she be angry with her lover, he'd never claimed to have any true affection for her. In fact he usually pointed out her flaws... funny since she was supposed to be perfect.  
  
No, she was angry with herself, for allowing herself to be used so vilely, yet suddenly aware of herself like she'd never been before. She had developed self-respect, and now she was putting her foot down.  
  
She place the dark head back onto the pillow, and stood.   
  
There wasn't much she could do for Faye in here, but she could do one thing. She exited the room and made her way down the hall, to where the hostage was detained.  
  
She could make sure nothing happened to Faye's fiancé.  
  
  
  
  
Corbin knew what he was.  
  
He was lying in his room again; examining the ceiling for any detail he may have missed initially... that and running this evening's scene back and forth in his mind. He had been caught up in the moment; he had been taken in by a feeling, an emotion that belonged to another, and allowed himself to believe that they were his own. He had been wrong.  
  
She had called him "Spike." It had happened before, he had gotten used to Jet's slips, which were becoming less and less... so he didn't know why it killed him to hear that name on her lips.   
  
No, that was a lie. He knew... he knew what he was.  
  
It hurt because he knew she didn't.  
  
  
  
  
"Who's there?" came John's shaky voice, as he heard the door to his room creep open, and shut again.  
  
He strained his eyes in the darkness, but to no avail, he couldn't see who belonged to the footsteps that rebounded off the walls.  
  
"What do you want?"   
  
"To help," came the soft reply. Then the room was flooded with light. She smiled at the fair-haired man while John blinked, willing his eyes to focus.   
  
"To help?" he asked.  
  
"Yes," John could see her now, her dark hair surrounding an angelic face. He thought that face looked supremely innocent. "I'm a, um, friend of Faye's. I know there isn't much I can do now, but I thought you should know you have allies."  
  
"Oh," John gave her a disbelieving look. She looked like she was the one who needed allies, the one who needed protection. He'd almost forgotten there were women like that.  
  
  
  
  
"Jet, I can't believe I fell apart like that... I just didn't know what to do."  
  
Jet sat across the table from Faye, staring into her face with a solemn expression. "I know that Faye, but he's-"  
  
"I know he's not Spike, Jet," she cut him off, "of course I do. It's just... I was under a lot of strain."   
  
Jet nodded in understanding, "I know..."  
  
But Faye shook her head in response. "No, you don't."  
  
"He's kidnapped John, and he told me that if I didn't turn the double into him, John would be dead by the end of the week."  
  
"Oh..." was all Jet could manage as a reply.  
  
Faye smiled bitterly, "tell me about it. This was our only lead to finding..." her voice grew hushed, "to finding Spike's body. Not only that, but the two of you are obviously getting to be pretty good friends." She couldn't quite keep the bitterness out of her voice.  
  
"You're one to talk," he returned, snappishly.  
  
The memory of her earlier embarrassment leapt to her mind, and she struggled to shove it down. She had allowed herself the illusion that he was Spike. She had been distraught, that was her excuse. She had just been released by her kidnapper with a promise that if she didn't complete his job, her fiancé would be killed; she wasn't thinking clearly, and was looking for comfort. That's what she told herself.  
  
Faye sighed, "I didn't mean... oh never mind. I just don't know what I'm going to-" She broke off, blushing as Corbin entered the dining room.  
  
"Oh, hi." She managed, then "no, we weren't having a private conversation, by all means, come and interrupt us," Faye said, the bitterness creeping back into her voice.  
  
He raised one eyebrow at her, "such a cool greeting?" he mocked, "I thought we were beyond that."  
  
It stung her. Maybe if she hadn't been so fragile already she would have been able to ignore it. Maybe if she hadn't been pushed past her emotional limitations, maybe if she hadn't been so shocked to see that face so close to hers, maybe then the tears wouldn't be threatening to fall from her eyes.   
  
He regretted it almost instantly, as the color ran from her blushing cheeks. He almost took it back when he saw that her eyes were dampening. Almost.   
  
He didn't know why he had responded so, except that a part of him had told him that was the way he should respond to this woman, and a sneaking suspicion told him it was the same thing that had tugged at his sleeves when he sat behind the controls of the Swordfish II, and whispered in his ear as he stared at his ceiling; it was the same thing that had told him to return her embrace when she'd thrown herself in his arms. It was the reason he'd sought them out.   
  
He felt they deserved the truth.  
  



	11. Revelation

Suddenly, he felt very awkward. It would have been easier if they were strangers, if he'd never laid eyes on either one of them. It would have been easier if they hadn't been so close to Spike. It would have been easier if Faye hadn't buried her head in his shoulder. But he had, and they were, and she did.  
  
He almost turned around and left the room, but he owed it to them to stay. He'd gotten them into this mess, however inadvertently. It was to find him that Kataki had hired Faye; because of her search that Dimitri had kidnapped her. No he owed her that much, and Jet.  
  
He took a seat between them, and steeled himself for what he was about to say.  
  
He opened his mouth, and hesitated.  
  
"What is it?" Faye asked, impatiently.  
  
How should he put it? "I... Faye, do you know what goes on it that building Dimitri was holding you in?"  
  
"Other than the satisfaction of his sick, sadistic impulses? Not a clue."  
  
"And how much did Dimitri tell you about me?"  
  
"About as much as Kataki did, which is to say, nothing. I got the feeling that was on a sort of need-to-know basis, and I didn't. Why?"  
  
Corbin sighed, "Lansing-Medcalf is a front for a genetic research lab." He paused, unsure of how to continue. "It's a building that I am all to familiar with," nothing like the direct approach, "since I escaped from there a year and a half ago."  
  
Faye furrowed her brow, realization finally dawning on her. An escapee from a genetic research lab... what was he saying, that he was a... oh god, that's exactly what he was saying.   
  
"You're a copy," she said flatly. A double, a long lost twin she could have handled, but this? A copy, a clone, a shadow of the original. Faye resisted the urge to double over, as the information hit her like a gut shot. It had suddenly become difficult to breathe.   
  
And she had been fooled, ever so briefly. She thought she'd be sick.  
  
Jet didn't look too surprised, though, Faye figured he'd already put two and two together; he'd had a bit more time to work on the puzzle than she'd had. Look at him, so calm, so unaffected. For a moment, she hated him for not preparing her for this. She wanted to hate Corbin too, but couldn't quite manage it.  
  
He sighed again, and reached into his pocket for a cigarette, the familiar gesture sending Faye into another round of nausea. "The project was originally set up to make doubles of higher syndicate officials. They were supposed to be used as decoys.  
  
"There were flaws... the clones had to believe that they were the originals, or they wouldn't be as convincing, they had to have a partial memory imprint, but even slight differences in brain structure could cause the imprint to fail. Most of the early subjects went crazy from the process, but they were beginning to make real progress  
  
"That's when Dimitri took over the project. He used the experiments to create a Spike clone. He hoped that the ensuing power struggle would be enough to tear apart the Red Dragon's from the inside out."  
  
"He was using you to cause confusion in the Red Dragon, to weaken them?"  
  
"No. Not me. I was," he smiled wryly, "imperfect."   
  
"I thought you said that they ended in insanity." Jet spoke up for the first time.  
  
"Most of the time... I was lucky, if you could call it that. I was slated for termination... I was to be put in suspended animation indefinitely; Dimitri likes to keep all of his science projects. I escaped, leaving his collection thus far incomplete. He's been hunting me ever since. He views me as his own personal failure."  
  
He leaned over the table, focusing on Jet, "And now, I want my payment for helping you find your partner."  
  
"Anxious to get as far away from Dimitri as possible?" Jet couldn't blame him.  
  
"Not exactly."  
  
  
  
Faye stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep. It wasn't that she wasn't tired, her body felt as heavy as a stone, and emotionally, she was exhausted, but for some reason, every time she closed her eyes, they sprang back open of their own accord. Physically and emotionally, she craved sleep. But her mind was whirling too fast to be shut down.  
  
No more guilt... it said, no more guilt... did it count as betrayal if she served up a clone on a silver platter? Could she still live with herself?   
  
It didn't matter, the question didn't matter... he had asked her to do it. He'd asked her to deliver him all wrapped up, with a pretty little bow, to a man who was hunting him down. Why? He said it was because he was tired of running... to Faye, he sounded like his predecessor. Perhaps it would end the same way.  
  
Would it hurt so badly, she wondered, the second time around? Would she cry for this imperfect copy, just because of his patchwork memory and a shared face? She hoped not. She hoped that she had loved Spike for more than the curve of his jaw, or the shade of his eyes, she hoped she wasn't in love with his shell, she wanted to think better of herself than that.  
  
Better and worse...  
  
Why not cry for Corbin, she had wasted her love on a shell before. Spike had already been hollowed out by the time she met him. Time, and anguish, had eaten away at him until there was nothing left for her, but she had loved him anyway. There was something incredibly perverse, and masochistic about that. Her therapist would have a field day.   
  
Spike... what would he say to his double?  
  
She sat up, deciding that what she really needed wasn't sleep, but a mega-dose of nicotine and caffeine.   
  
She made her way blearily to the kitchen, and was pleased to find that Jet had already started brewing a pot; she didn't really feel like sitting alone anyway.  
  
"What are you doing up Faye? You should be in bed, I mean, you look like hell."  
  
She flashed him a grim half-smile, "thanks, Jet, you always know just what to say to brighten my day."  
  
She poured herself a cup of the life-giving brew, and drew a cigarette out of her pack.   
  
She lit the slender stick as she sank into the cushioned seat, bright orange vinyl, like something straight out of the 1950's. Such vintage décor had been all the rage when she was growing up. So many years ago.  
  
"When were you going to tell me?" she said after a long, steady pull.  
  
"I didn't know for sure."  
  
"But you suspected, right? Why didn't you say anything?"   
  
"What could I say? How do I even begin a conversation like that?"  
  
"You're right, Jet, this was much better!"   
  
Jet turned away, and Faye was sorry she'd even brought it up. It wasn't Jet's fault. She shouldn't have taken her frustration out on him. She offered him a cigarette, by way of an apology.   
  
He accepted with a knowing nod.  
  
"So, what about tomorrow?" he asked.  
  
"I'm supposed to take him alone to the drop, where the trade will be made, during which, I'll accidentally on purpose give Corbin access to one of my guns, and then... well, I haven't thought much past that. I guess John and I shoot our way out, and leave Corbin to his fate."  
  
"Right."  
  
"Right..."  
  
  
  
Irma entered the room carrying a tray laden with food.   
  
"Let me get that," he said, reaching for the tray.  
  
His offer of assistance was out of habit only; Faye was fiercely independent, and stubbornly refused to admit she ever needed his help. In fact, the only people she ever asked for help were her old partner, and that kid. Never him, though... no matter how close they got, there was this wall between them. Faye was never vulnerable, not where he could see her; her heart was never open.  
  
So it came as a shock when his offer of assistance was accepted.  
  
"Thank you," Irma said, handing him the food, and taking a seat in an armchair.  
  
He inhaled deeply the soothing scent of lilac and Jasmine that was Irma's trademark.  
  
"So, to what do I owe the honor?"  
  
She sighed heavily, there was a lot in that sigh, and it let the small woman looking even smaller.   
  
"Faye contacted Dimitri an hour ago, she's found Corbin, and is exchanging him for you. I haven't contacted her yet, I... I came straight here to tell you the news, but I know that Dimitri has something up his sleeve. I've got to warn her to be on her toes."  
  
"I see," John said, closing his eyes. "Faye's lucky to have you as an ally... I'm lucky to have you as an ally."  
  
She answered with a shy smile. "Well, I better make that call..."  
  
  
  
Faye's eyes had barely closed when the chirping of her recently restored communicator pulled her back out from under the covers. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the object... who would call...?  
  
She hit the receive button with much trepidation, and was surprised to see Irma.  
  
Irma, the woman had seemed such a puzzle before. She was obviously Dimitri's lover, but she had been so innocent, so pure, with her china-doll perfection.   
  
"Irma..."  
  
"F- Miss Valentine."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"I... I think that Dimitri has something planned for you. I don't think he's going to let you get away... you've made him very angry, he says he's going to m-make you pay."   
  
"Why should I trust you?"  
  
"Because after tomorrow, I'll be slated for termination."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Irma smiled bitterly, "He's going to get a sample of your DNA."  
  
  
"A DNA sample? What the hell for?"  
  
"You've made an impression on him... the last woman to do that looked like me, get the picture?"  
  
"I see." Now, it all made sense. She *was* a china-doll, a piece of finely crafted glass. A genetic construct, like Corbin, made to be the perfect woman for Dimitri.   
  
Faye smiled humorlessly, at the arrogance that enabled a man to make himself a mate. As far as she was concerned, the perfect mate for Dimitri was a she-alligator, snapping jaws and all.  
  
"I just wanted you to know that I'm ready to help you in any way that I can."  
  
Any way? "How good a shot are you?" there was the beginning of a solid plan forming in her mind.  
  
  
  
A restful night was a rare thing to Corbin; he'd spent the majority of his short life either captive or on the run. In fact, in just over two years, he couldn't remember one single night he'd slept through, always too nervous to find true rest.   
  
Except for last night. Last night he'd slept like a rock. It was something about this place, the comforting familiarity of the room, the reassuring presence of friends close to him that lulled him into a fitful slumber. Sure this wasn't really his room, and they weren't really his friends, but it was still a comfort.  
  
It made him a little nervous when he woke the next morning restful.   
  
He wondered how much of the sweet dreams he'd had belonged to him, and how much belonged to the other, to Spike. Ever since he'd come aboard, he felt as though he was living another man's life.   
  
And he was tired of letting some one else control him, that's why he was confronting Dimitri in the first place.   
  
From now on, no one else decided things for him, not Dimitri and his hunting, or Spike with his passed on emotional baggage.   
  
"Today," he told himself, "Corbin makes his own decisions."  
  
  
  
Faye sat at the coffee table, espresso in one hand, Marlboro in the other, staring ahead of her, out the window and into space.   
  
Corbin... he was asleep in Spike's old room. That's where he'd stayed the night, tucked beneath Spike's sheets, defiling their sanctity with his imperfect presence. It left a bitter taste in her mouth, the way he'd just waltzed into their lives, destroying her peace, stomping out her dreams. It irked her that Jet had allowed him to stay, and that the big man had obviously taken a liking to him. Jet belonged to Spike, not Corbin, not this imposter.   
  
She was absorbed in thought, and didn't notice Corbin enter the sitting room until he cleared his throat to get her attention.  
  
"Huh?" she asked, looking up.   
  
"Breakfast of Champions, I see."   
  
"What? Oh," she gave him a cold smile, "yeah, gotta keep my strength up, have a busy day ahead of me."  
  
"I can sympathize," Corbin said dryly, before plopping down in the seat next to her.  
  
The thought that he looked very striking in the morning, his already unruly hair particularly rebellious, the rough, unshaven look to his face, the alert glint in his eyes, came unbidden into her mind. It was followed closely by the wave of nasuea that she had come to recognize as self-loathing.   
  
Corbin was only an imperfect copy, what right did he have wearing Spike's face?   
  
"Really?" she said in a tone that definitely didn't invite further conversation.  
  
"Oh yeah, I have to play the prisoner tonight, remember?" he went on, ignoring the dismissal in her voice. "And I always was a terrible actor."  
  
"Not surprising."  
  
"So, what time are we supposed to meet with him?"  
  
"6:00, in a park near his building."  
  
"It has occurred to you," he started, as he lit his own cigarette, "that he will probably have something up his sleeve, hasn't it?"  
  
"Naturally, but I have some one on it."  
  
"Some one?"  
  
"His girl, Irma, she found out where Dimitri's placing his people, so we're going down early to set some charges," she flashed her watch, "I give the signal, and Dimitri's extra help goes kaboom, that leaves us with only his guard to deal with, four guys, heavily armed. Piece of cake. I gave Irma the access code to my ship, so once the fighting breaks out, she's supposed to make sure John gets out, and give us room to work."  
  
"And we wait for Jet to come charging in and save us?" Corbin asked with a raised eyebrow, "what about the gunship, which is most surely in orbit? One word from Dimitri, and Jet will be the one going "kaboom." We have to make sure he can't contact it... your hacker friend, could you get her to block his communication?"  
  
"Good idea," she smiled, a mind for strategy, she hadn't expected that.  
  
She wondered briefly just how deep the similarity ran, then she remembered what she'd thought about last night. "You're going to kill Dimitri, aren't you?"  
  
"That's why I'm doing this at all. I'm not safe while he lives." He smiled wryly, "why, you haven't become attached to him, have you?"  
  
"I was just curious how far you'd go, are you willing to die to make sure he goes?"  
  
He leaned his chair back, and propped one foot on the table. "Now that would sort of defeat the purpose, wouldn't it?"  
  
  
"John... John, wake up."  
  
"Hnnn..."  
  
"John, it's important."  
  
He squeezed his eyes tight for moment, trying to ignore the insistent shaking, but to no avail. He blinked several times, before his eyes focused on the woman in front of him.  
  
"Irma?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep.  
  
"John... do you know how to use this?" she asked, pressing a pistol into his hand. John smiled at the feel of the cold metal in his hand.  
  
"Faye showed me how... what's the plan?"  
  
  



	12. running battle

You've caught me... I'd been mulling this story over for several months, and I was ready for this chapter to be over. I'm sorry I rushed things the first time around, but this chapter has now been revised.  
  
Corbin raised his manacled hands, giving the cuffs a skeptical look. "Explain to me again why I have to wear these things?" He asked, his voice thick with apprehension.  
  
"Payback." Faye absently replied, as she brought her ship down on the grassy field in the park to the west of the Lansing-Medcalf building.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Uh, you want it to look convincing, don't you?" She said with an innocent smile. "They'll be here any moment, so lets go over this one more time. There'll be an exchange, you'll stand in front of me, hands cuffed behind your back. John will be standing across from us, on Dimitri's left. Irma will be on the right. On either side of them is one armed guard, there's another behind them, at the door of Dimitri's ship, plus the pilot, that makes four."  
  
"Right"  
  
"I'll send you forward, and Dimitri will send John forward. He has snipers in the tower to the west, and a few men on the ground on the other side of that hill," she said, indicating a low rise on the west. "I already have both structures rigged to blow in my signal, and when the two of you reach the center of the clearing, I'll detonate the charges, You'll get the goon on the left, I'll take the one on the right, Irma and John will take off in the Shadow Wolf, and head to the Bebop. That will leave Dimitri the pilot, and the guard on the door... are you listening to me?"  
  
Corbin flashed her that crooked smile. "Not really, we've been over this a thousand times already."  
  
"This is a tricky operation, and I've never worked with you before, I don't know if I can depend on you." `You' she said with a bitterness that she'd meant to try to hide, but she failed.  
  
"I could say the same of you," he said, still smiling, but his voice was chilly.  
  
Faye cast a glare at him, and their eyes locked. There was a tense electric crackle in the air, you could almost smell the ozone. The temperature inside the ship seemed to rise steadily to boiling, as they eyed each other. Faye leaned imperceptibly closer to him, suddenly longing to close the distance between them, as she'd never been able to close the distance between herself and...  
  
Then, suddenly, he was looking past her, over her shoulder.  
  
"They're here."  
  
There was an awful taste in her mouth, must be self-disgust, she had made the mistake of forgetting, even for a moment, what Corbin was... nothing but an inadequate substitute.  
  
"Show time," She said, but what she really wanted to do was use some mouth wash.  
  
The gun Irma had given him was really a `just in case' item, and with any luck, it wouldn't be used, but John had it strapped to his inner thigh, near his groin anyway. He wasn't used to carrying such items tough, so when the got off the ship, and took his place next to Dimitri, he walked slightly stiffly. Irma stood stock still, except for the wind in her long black hair; hoping Dimitri wouldn't notice John's awkwardness, or discover her betrayal, but with Dimitri between them, they dared not risk a glance at each other. Instead, they both looked straight ahead, at the two figures on the opposite end of the field.  
  
It was Faye, that much John had expected, but the man standing next to her... he looked familiar...  
  
It was a second before John remembered a picture, taken a long time ago with Faye, Jet and that kid, Ed,... and another man that Faye never talked about... refused to talk about. John felt a twinge of jealousy as it sank in. This was Spike. This was the man who held Faye's heart, the reason why she'd never be happy with him, as, deep down, he'd always known she wouldn't... or couldn't.  
  
No... no, Spike was dead, he remembered the one time he'd asked her about it, she'd said he was dead... perhaps John was mistaken.  
  
"I have what you want, Slime Ball, and you have what I want, so lets get this thing over with." Faye called across the grass.  
  
"You give me Corbin first," Dimitri answered.  
  
"I don't think so," Faye's said, smiling, "same time."  
  
Dimitri turned to John, "get moving." he said, dangerously, and John complied, trying his best to walk normally.  
  
The trip across the field seemed to take forever. It was almost as though time had stopped altogether. He had time to memorize the details of every blade of grass he passed, and the exact tune that a sparrow was singing in the distance. That was, until he and Corbin were drew closer to the center. Two paces away, Corbin caught his eye, and winked, and as they drew next to he whispered one word to John.  
  
"Duck."  
  
And it was like someone hit the fast forward button. There was an explosion on either side of the field, and John hit the deck. He saw Dimitri's shoes retreat back up into his ship, a moment later, Faye went thundering past him, and then, suddenly, he was being yanked off of the ground by his shirt collar.  
  
"Come on, we haven't much time." He heard Irma say as she drug him in the direction of Faye's ship.  
  
"But... Faye?"  
  
"Don't you worry about those two, they'll be fine, as long as we get out of the way." She was pushing him through the door then, and shutting it behind her. "We're supposed to meet back up with them later, but for now..." she was saying, as she pushed him down the short hall onto the bridge. "It's time to go." She sat down in Faye's chair, and punched in her codes. A second later, they were airborne. John stared dumbly out the window, watching what was unfolding below. Faye and Corbin had just taken out the door guard, and were heading into the ship... and then, they were too small to see.  
  
"Where is he?"  
  
The pilot was staring down the 6 ½ barrel of an AMT Automag V. The thought of lying never even occurred to him.  
  
"He's gone... took off back to Lansing in a speeder."  
  
"Shit," Corbin said through clenched teeth. Faye dispatched of the pilot by rapping him smartly on the head with the butt of her gun. "Call Jet for the pick up, we're dropping in on Dimitri."  
  
"Where are you going?" John's voice came to her from across the hangar. She looked up, into his eyes, but it was like looking at a stranger.  
  
"I'm going to help Corbin," she answered.  
  
"Are you sure you want to do this?"  
  
Faye avoided John's eyes as she powered up the RedTail.  
  
"You can't expect him to go without back up," she said, as the glass settled down over her. She felt like she was safe in a bubble looking at him. A world away. She didn't think they'd ever be close again, and as he mouthed `goodbye,' she believed he knew it too.  
  
She sighed, then shook her head and focused on the controls.  
  
It felt good to be back here again. Not that she didn't love the Shadow Wolf, but Flying the RedTail was a different sort of piloting all together. She breathed deeply as everyone cleared the deck, and exhaled sharply as the hangar doors opened.  
  
"Time to play." came Corbin's voice over the radio.  
  
"I couldn't have said it better myself."  
  
Faye accelerated, pushing in the throttle, and savoring the thrill that shot through her body as velocity pressed her back against her seat, and her hands moved with calculated speed over the controls. Brilliance. Flying was like dancing, she felt like a shooting star, catapulting into infinity. Oh yes, she'd missed this.  
  
She saw a red blur pass her on the right, as Corbin maneuvered the Swordfish II past her, accelerating into a hairpin turn, then shooting back toward her, over her, around her, before coming to rest next to her. Faye's throat went dry. He even flew like Spike.  
  
"Doing well, I see," Faye's voice cracked, slightly, she doubted he would even notice.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Hey, listen, about what I said earlier, about not trusting you..."  
  
"Don't worry about it."  
  
They entered the atmosphere side by side, and descended until they were just skimming the surface of the road. They passed over the park, which was now blanketed in night, and headed to were Dimitri was. Third floor from the top, Lansing-Medcalf building... they were going straight through the window. So much for subtlety, Faye thought, wryly.  
  
Dimitri paced the length of his empty bedroom. She'd turned on him. That ungrateful bitch had turned on him, and after he'd made her... molded her out of the genetic material of another, after he'd made her to love him.  
  
"It's that Faye's fault." He said aloud, "I never should have let Irma speak to her."  
  
And suddenly, he was slammed against the wall, as shockwave rocked the whole building. He sunk to the floor, unconscious.  
  
Corbin leapt from the cockpit of the Swordfish II.  
  
"You okay."  
  
"Ble l'in Ife," Faye said, jokingly, as she shook her head.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"I'll be fine."  
  
"Right," Corbin said, sounding unconvinced. " Okay, this place is going to be crawling with syndicate security in about five minutes, to be on your guard. We have a lot of ground to cover, so lets split up."  
  
Faye pulled her pistol loose of its holster, "Gotcha."  
  
"Remember, when you leave, use the remote to activate the RedTail, and get it to come to you, you don't want to have to fight your way back into this room."  
  
"I'm not stupid, Corbin," she snapped, "but how are you getting out?"  
  
He gave her a wolfish grin.  
  
Faye went cold. The whole floor was going to be overrun with armed guards, but no place would they be thicker than right here. Certain death. Just like...  
  
He was out the door and into the hall before she could finish the thought, and when she stepped into the corridor, he was already out of sight. She sighed, they's just have to work fast.  
  
She tried the knob on the door across the hall. Locked. Easily handled, though, she thought, shooting it open. With a kick, it swung in on it's hinges. The light from the hall sent a narrow shaft of illumination into the room. Faye gasped. The failed copies...  
  
Dimitri came to moments after he was knocked out, and stood up. He could feel the headache beginning to rise in his temples, but pushed it down. He didn't need a security report to tell him what had just happened. The prey was trying to become the predator. Well, he'd just have to see about that.  
  
If Corbin was in the building to exact revenge, Dimitri knew just where he'd go.  
  
Faye swallowed the lump in her throat, and it obediently went down her esophagus, and came to rest in the pit of her stomach. She was staring at a sea of familiar eyes. She put her hand on the door way to steady herself, and fought the wave of nausea that threatened to drown her. She waited for it to pass, before moving on into the room.  
  
These suspended animation units were specially made for Dimitri to display his `collection.' They looked more like glass coffins than anything else. It was hard for Faye to move when 25 sets of eyes watched sightlessly, immersed in fluid. 25 men in fish tanks. She closed her eyes, and moved forward along the row, shutting them out.  
  
She would have to take one of them with her, Kataki needed his evidence. She opened her eyes again, and felt her heart skip a beat. She was standing directly in front of one of the stasis units.  
  
She cleared her throat, and with a lot more bravery than she felt, she said, "I suppose you'll do." God, she felt sick.  
  
With a command into her wrist remote, her ship powered up, and moved forward into the room, heedless of the wood and plaster it tore through. It was quite a task, getting the unit inside, and once that was accomplished, Faye found that she couldn't concentrate when those eyes stared over her shoulder. She took a sheet out of the back and threw it over him, covering his face, closing his eyes.  
  
She sighed, and tried to ignore the glass box behind her.  
  
"Hey Jet, I'm heading back to the ship," she started, but her transmission was cut half way through, as Ed's face came to replace Jet's.  
  
"Faye, I've been using the building surveillance to monitor your guys activity, and you might want to go help Corbin."  
  
Faye felt her heart leap from her chest. "Where is he?"  
  
Corbin could tell by the look on her face that Faye didn't think he'd get out of this alive. And he might not, but it was his best chance at freedom. A life without running.  
  
He came to the end of the hall, to a door marked `authorized personnel only,' the lab. It stood ajar, Dimitri'd beaten him there. He gave the door a mighty shove, and jumped to the side as a hail of bullets rained through the doorway.  
  
"Oh, Come on Dimitri, how stupid do you think I am?"  
  
"Just stupid enough."  
  
Corbin heard the click of an empty magazine, and ran through the door. He kicked over a table, and ducked behind it just as a bullet was whizzing past his ear. He peaked around the corner of the table and saw that Dimitri was in a similar position.  
  
"It seems we're at an impasse," Corbin called over his shoulder.  
  
"I think not." Dimitri sounded positively gleeful. "You see, you've forgotten my friends."  
  
As if on cue, Corbin heard muted footsteps down the hall. Of course, the Syndicate guard would find him a sitting duck. He cursed his stupidity as the footsteps drew nearer.  
  
"The intruder's in here," Dimitri called, and the footsteps rushed forward. But as the guards reached the door, there was an explosion behind him, and the next thing he knew, the two guards that had been making their way down the hall were ripped to shreds by machine gum fire.  
  
"Hurry up!" Faye called, and Cobin stood up from behind his make-shift shelter. Faye had blown a hole in the wall, killing Dimitri in the blast, what's more, she was towing the Swordfish II. He could already hear another, larger detachment of guards thundering toward him, and decided there was no time to waste, not even time to ask about the large object Faye had wrapped in a sheet and sitting behind the seat of the RedTail. Plenty of time later, when they were safe on the Bebop. Plenty of time now that he didn't have to run anymore.  
  
"You're leaving?"  
  
John jumped, Irma had caught him packing his stuff out of the Shadow Wolf. "Yes."  
  
"I don't understand... why? Miss Valentine is a wonderful woman, and she's your fiancé, why  
  
would you want to leave her now that you two have finally been re-united?"  
  
The last thing he'd wanted to do was to have to explain his actions, that's why he wasn't waiting for Faye. He didn't want to admit what he knew to be true. Faye didn't love him, and she never had.  
  
"I just feel there's too much in our way," he lied. "I think it's best if we spend some time apart," forever.  
  
Irma tilted her head to one side, her soft curls falling across her alabaster skin. "I'm sorry to see you go, you're one of the only people who's treated me with any kind of respect." She smiled sweetly, "I want you to know that you'll always have a friend if you need one."  
  
He couldn't help but return that smile, "thank you, Irma, thank you. He leaned over to kiss her on the forehead, then turned away. Off to Europa... off to home.  
  
"Mister Kataki," Faye bowed deeply. "I have recovered what you have asked for, Dimitri of the Russian Mafia was cloning Spike, trying to make the Red Dragon defeat itself with another civil war. We, that is... My, uh, partner and I, destroyed their facilities, which were full of failed clones. I recovered the original without my partner's knowledge though... very quiet, like you asked."  
  
Kataki smiled, "I knew you would. Thank you for helping me to control this situation." he said with a knowing smile.  
  
Faye's eyes widened. "You knew all along, didn't you?"  
  
He shook his head as though he were a much wiser adult dealing with a child. "Of course."  
  
Faye stood staring at him in wide eyed shock. She felt used. She re-adjusted the strap on the duffle bag that contained her pay, uncomfortably before turning to leave without a dismissal. "Last time I'm ever dealing with the syndicate..." she muttered.  
  
Corbin nestled himself into the all too familiar bed. He hated this nagging feeling of memory. Jet had made it obvious that he was welcome to stay as long as he liked, but he knew that this place, which had been Spike's home, could never be his. Things were just too confusing here. He wasn't sure if what he felt belonged to him, or was just a residual memory. If he stayed in Spike's room, in Spike's home, with Spike's face staring back at him in Spike's mirror while he shaved, would he bocome Spike? He hated that thought, all he wanted to be was himself.  
  
Damn that Faye anyway, if it hadn't been for her, he wouldn't have ended up here, confusing his life with Spike's. He caught himself before he blurted out `I hate women with attitude,' and chuckled softly.  
  
The second story in this series is already in the works, I just thought I ought to fix this one before continuing. Thanks everyone. 


End file.
